Meher Baba copyright 1987 Charlie Mills

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1 Pre-1894

Chapter 1: Age Is Shedding Tears

Darkness! Darkness! Darkness is spreading in all directions!

As the 19th century draws to a close, darkness is driving the forces of light away. Individual minds have become rigidly fixed and their conceited egos lofty. The mind of mankind is awake and the heart is asleep.

What a decline has taken place! What a pitiable condition Age is in! What suffering has darkness perpetrated! The evolution of consciousness has come to a standstill. Further progress is impossible without the intervention of the Avatar.

Age is weeping at its tragic plight. It is overcome with grief and confused. Continuously calling to God, it laments its misfortune. Its tears beseech God to save it. The light of its eyes is fading in the approaching darkness. It is groping in the black night of ignorance. It weeps in sheer helplessness and exhaustion.

Imprisoned in its desperation, Age has forgotten that whenever its tears have flowed they have also been wiped away. The blind always have the Ancient One's staff — the lame, his shoulder. Has not every Age been promised by the Ancient One that whenever darkness dispels light, he will take form again to wipe dry the tears of man?

But how can Age remember this when it is blinded by the clouds of darkness, when it is enfeebled and disconsolate? If Age remembered the Ancient One's assurance, it would have the strength to bear its burden. But this time, its suffering is enormous, its trials and hardships much greater than ever before. Age can bear no more.

Yet the turmoil of this Age is not hidden from God. It is His game. In the eternal struggle between darkness and light, darkness seems to be victorious. Its apparent triumph, however, brings about its own defeat. It is light's (knowledge's) play to let darkness (ignorance) believe itself the victor. What is this darkness before the effulgence when a single ray of light can absorb even the deepest darkness?

But distraught and disheartened, Age's patience is spent. It sobs in anguish. How can Age implore God to come to its aid? Its voice is too weak. It is limited and has no knowledge of the boundless workings of the universe. This duty rests solely with the five Perfect Masters. Only they can help. Only they can bring God Himself into human form.

Poor Age! How long will its sea of tears continue?

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