! ! You, To Whom I Am Myself Poem by Michael Shepherd

O You Who Are - the formless, nameless One,
more real than all forms and names can speak:

You for whom we seek to find a name
and yet who has no name, who needs no name;

You for whom we seek to shape a form
and yet who has no form, who needs no form;

Yet whom we name in every name we speak,
and whom we see in every form we seek:

is there some name bestowed for nameless name,
a form imagined for a formless form,
by which all hearts today that seek themselves
may shape their search as if for One unknown?
may kneel in front of their own golden throne?

Should we approach you as the Lord of Hearts,
who’s spoken of in heartfelt praise of glorious human brilliance,
endeavour, art, achievement and discovery;
the Lord who gave us hearts to know we love?

Should we approach you as the Lord of Self,
whom we all know when we relax, become
more our known self, in silence, rest, or company
that sparkles round a table built of happiness?

Should we approach you as the Lord of Consciousness
in whom we live and move, and be; yet never see
for you’re the seeing in ourself; to whom we wake
and know, and stand securely, watching all?

I ask You for the sound of some new yet eternal name;
that sound by which all quickly know themself
and talk once more from hearts forever free,
of what we are, and know, and love to be.