What if Moses, Jesus and Muhammad
Were all born in the same small village,
Shared the same star at birth.
Would they have grown up as friends?
Embraced their similar yet distinctive
Revelations, shared as friends
Around the fire at night?
Suppose their mothers
Drew water from the same well,
Shared stories of the village fool,
Traded recipes and herbs from gardens,
Complained about husbands,
Babysat the other’s children?
Three mystics, born in fullness of their time,
Gathered in one village,
Validating their common discoveries,
Respecting differences,
Refusing to fight or kill each other….
Swimming naked in the river,
Camping out under stars at night,
Praying alone in the wilderness,
Would they know they shared One God?
And what of the forms my own heart knows?
Can I be broad pasture
Where many wild creatures rest
Under the heat of the day—
The river where water is shared?
Can I embrace such Love
That I follow
Wherever Love’s camels go?
Moses, Jesus and Muhammad
Did not arrive at faith only through scholarship
But through adventure of seeking Truth,
Deep dreams and wordless prayer in the desert,
Wondering under the canopy of stars.
It took great courage to give
Their very lives in service of humanity.
Does God ask less of me?