Once Baba gestured to me that He wished me to bow down to Him. As I stepped forward, He stopped me, and then conveyed, "Place your forehead on My feet in such a way that you will never, ever lift it again!"

This was an implicit command to focus my attention on Him always, in all ways. Now, in my mind's eye, as I gaze upon the Star of Infinity, I find that here is where my forehead at last comes to rest, forever upon His blessed feet. For He is here, wholly immanent in the Star — the feet upon which I surrender my being, the hands that touched me, the smile that captivated me.

A verse from Tukaram, one of Maharashtra's greatest poets and Perfect Masters, and a favorite of Baba's, whose writing has moved millions over the centuries, expresses my feelings most eloquently:

From Your brow emanates the healing effulgence of a million moons.
I beg of You, O Lord!
Let not my eyes stray but remain forever fixed on Your divinely luminous face.

May Baba guide each to find their center in Him as naturally as a thousand different flowers open into a thousand different blooms, each vibrant with the colors of His beauty and redolent with the perfume of His love.

Concerning a tomb-shrine or a samadhi of a saint, Rumi wrote:

The very earth where a holy man is buried is ennobled by his form, which is endowed with the sanctity of his soul. This dust is blessing and protecting us; hundreds of the living are under his protection.