The Moment of Surrender

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I am the quiet

 

the end of your quiet day

 

I am the noisy

 

the end of your noisy day

 

I am the noisy

I am the quiet

 

The end of your day

 

 

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Amma

 

Mata_Amritanandamayi

In morning

She rises

To the sound of water

 

In evening

Her repose

Is the clear light of day

 

(and

always always

the innumerable Hum:

of

I AM

flooding her brain)

 

 

One morning, though,

there will be no rising…

One morning, though,

No clear light of day.

 

One morning

One morning

Her children will instantly (somehow) know:

Ah, she has dropped the body.

Ah, the butterfly soul!

 

 

Oh dear sweet mother,

how long are your days with us?

Oh dear sweet Amma,

how long can your hands hold?