The offering

I heard this question one time in the island grove,
where we were gathered in the early morning:
‘How does a perfect teaching work?’

An offering dropped gently into my being,
as though into the clarity of water;
it was itself as transparent as water
so that its slow progress down was visible
only as the slightest ripple in the stillness

at a certain depth,
the offering transformed in a moment
into shimmering blues and greens and reds,
a kaleidoscope of bubbles and colour,
spreading out,
bringing the beauty of the rainbow to my being,
softly exquisite and benign,
lingering on and on and on.

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