‘Are you happy?’ was His greeting. The Master would inquire
At many first encounters, not a social pleasantry.
The question was His mandate: possess a pure and radiant heart.
He sincerely wanted this to be a lasting reality.
He said, turn the tears to laughter, a frown into a grin,
He told us that the mystic key is well within our grasp,
Though it take an entire lifetime of searching from within.
No outside circumstance affords a joy that’s made to last.
Breakwell found that key, not late, but in his prime,
Attained unto that City in the Kingdom of his Lord.
But nearness to his Lord did not depend on place or time.
He turned himself into a gift laid humbly at His door.
That requires severance, the surrender of all else.
Our brothers and our sisters in Iran have made that choice,
Knowing that nothing less than the sacrifice of self
Enables us to approach Him, our hearts to be rejoiced.
Not a single thing of worth has ever been obtained
Without a bascule measure of equal sacrifice.
How cruel that a cherished life be offered in exchange,
When giving up of self is what’s required and would suffice.
Detachment like the sun will burn away the dross,
The vanities of opulence and wealth will disappear,
Replaced by His abiding love, a treasure never lost,
Free of all the cares, the hidden peril and the fear.
That which produces light must endure the burning.2
If we are to reflect the glow we must be purified of
Desires, passions, selfish dreams beneath the watchful eye of
The Refiner setting us to flame as told in Malachi.
Even through adversity and loss we can repair
To gratitude, contentment, and to sweet serenity.
As we tread the stony path we’ll find the ways to cheat despair.3
His providence perceived throughout the worst calamity.
Joy in tribulation, so very far removed
From every current concept of human happiness.
Adversity as morning dew upon His verdant pasture,
The means to light the way towards everlasting bliss.
If we fail to attain proximity, the source of spiritual elation,
We’ve missed the point, failed to heed the Master, beckoning.
Joy is not reserved for some other-worldly station.
We must achieve it now, before we’re called to a reckoning.
If we reach that day imbued with utter happiness,
The day the Ol’ Grim Reaper meets the Messenger of Joy,
The battle will ensue, the latter being victorious,
The former relegated to the outback of folklore.