To Satprem and others in exile

My brother, my friend, you are in exile,
There is some of those exiles of a compelled life, of an imposed Dolour,
They are unavoidable ordeals of a God to incarnate
In the peregrine days of a still so much lonesome Earth ;

There are Truths human beings cannot hear nor perceive,
The meanders-spirals of their ear have tangled from them the Sense,
And there is only remained to the nomad steps of Difference
The sour-tender Solitude-Sanctuary of the incarnated Certitude.

My brother, my friend, you are in exile,
You are the Beloved of His Truth.