Little God

Poem By Adam Maruyama

I keep my little God in a box of space.
He talks to me in my sleep,
and He whispers the answers
to a thousand unasked questions.

'This is my Father, ' He shows me,
and I see everything in the universe
and not-everything there too;
'shh, ' He says, 'no questions.'

But I know that I’ve approached
from the side of everything—
an approach from the other side
would let me experience oblivion.

'This is my Mother, ' He shows me,
and I see our shared mother,
sitting at home and shedding pearly tears
for the loss of her sacred sons.

But I know that if we approached
from the other side of time,
her tears would be tears of happiness,
after the suffering of birth.

'This is Dream, ' He shows me,
and my mind is opened to
all the things that I knew were there
but was afraid to admit.

But I know that approaching
from the unconscious side,
I would see all the things that I admit,
but cannot possibly know.

'This is the unspeakable, ' He shows me:
I see the Father and the Mother in dream,
clothed in robes of pure light,
and sitting on their great thrones.

But I know that the other approach,
from the side of waking,
would show them clothed in darkness
and hidden to all of us, even little God.

'This is Love, ' He finally shows me,
and I see Her opening the box with me,
experiencing our little God
even though She might not know Him.

But for Love, the approach from both sides
is identical—I know this because
Love is the one thing that encompasses
the Father and the Mother.

And that’s the one thing
I can’t get out of my head,
that picture of Love,
because I find it everyday.

Love’s the one thing that little God
won’t show Her when we’re there.
'Say it to her, ' He tells me,
'she’ll know it because it’s Dream.'

But that’s the one thing I can’t say
because I don’t know how to say it.
My little God just tells me I’ll know
and sits in His box and smiles.

(Washington, February 2005)

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