The Kiln of God
Let the Mother enter your life like a swift river
And let Her wash away
All your human belongings and attachments
And many coats of old varnish
And gradually release
The Godhead imprisoned in the mud.
Have confidence in the Mother.
Her least gesture, Her insignificant glance
Are acts of supreme Benediction.
We must allow Her to build in us Her Temple
By removing brick by brick the old human structure
And replacing them with new bricks
From the Kiln of God