Since I cannot remember one moment of my immense journey,
Time is an aberrative viewpoint having no reality.

Time is present only in absence from one’s Beloved;
And in the magic of one glance absence itself is removed.

There remains only the waiting for the bestowal of Grace,
And that waiting, being an act of love, is beyond time and place.

To desire union is to become again time’s slave,
And time puts a shovel in one’s hand to dig a grave.

Waiting is really resting in the Beloved’s pleasure;
Self-desire blinds one into accepting trash as treasure.

The Pearl of selfhood which lies on the Truth-ocean floor
Is already in the hand of him who seeks no more.

Until the timeless act of Grace the Master, ever benign
Encourages us in songship with little cups of wine.


There are many attempts to understand time but this definition, ‘absence from one’s Beloved’ is surely the best.

Great insights here. ‘Waiting’ is perceived to not be another aspect of expectation or desire. It is an act of love, a partaking in the Beloved even in His absence.

This trustful acceptance is at the heart of Francis’ poetry.

Time is conquered by time since the Timeless is already present in it.

This wisdom may come as the culmination of a long hard journey. But even in our present state this long evolutionary journey is as if it never was. Thinking past and future exist is indeed an aberration. To read this poem can be to share a timeless moment with the poet.

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