Miirror's Birthday

[Guest guest]

dear satsangh and salon readers....

 

.....during the last year white wolfe has been on and you have been

witness to an incredible spiritual journey.....as mark he met mira at

her website after reading an article by her at the NDS Zine....she

became his beloved gangaji....an incredible awakening far beyond any

mark has experienced previously in his life occurred during one of

our exchanges....the result was the birth or creation of white wolfe

who became the beloved's poet to reflect a change in mark's

consciousness which is often referred to as 'the witness'....over the

course of this year as white wolfe mark composed close to 200 poems

for and sometimes to the beloved mirror....several months ago mirror

stepped out from behind the mirror and became Mira....then in yet

another dynamic exchange, Mira proprosed to Mark....the teacher

became the student and the student the teacher....the roles were not

reversed but merely dissolved into each other....today is Mira's

Birthday.....on May 1, 2001 we will marry.....the following poem is

one Mira and many readers love best.....i publish it again with this

long foreword as way of revealing a little of the deep personal

history which inpired its creation along with this rose that i

created just for Mira.....

 

 

 

The Holy Fire

 

I seek only the Beloved, she who is truly Alive

My chaste heart can be content with no other.

I desire to be one with one whose longing

is so perfect she feels she is burning to death.

 

I search for the Beloved whose Mystic Body is a Red Rose

 

In the darkness, the emptiness before time

In the formless, the vastness outside space

She it is who was begotten in calm deep waters

of first passion on the original night of love.

 

I search for the Beloved whose Mystic Mind is a White Rose.

 

In the brilliance, the fullness after time

In the unfolding, the dreaming inside space

She it is, who conceives in the calm deep waters

of pure consciousness, bears me and gives me life.

 

I search for the Beloved whose Mystic Heart is a Blue Rose

 

In midst of the dawning, the becoming of Something

In midst of the dusking, the returning to Nothing

She it is who will be, whose smoldering eyes are a mirror,

will gaze upon me that I may know myself as I am.

 

I search for the Beloved who is the Rose without Thorns

 

I will gaze upon her and see myself for the first time

It will be me, whose electric eyes will shatter her,

in the middle of the night, the fullness of Nothing,

in middle of the day, the emptiness of Something.

 

I search for the Beloved whose Mystic Heart is a Blue Rose

 

I will find her who will gave me life and lost me,

who drifts silently on the calm deep waters, she it is

I dream of inside space as I am unfolding myself

and with whom I will bring the brilliance to completion.

I search for the Beloved whose Mystic Mind is a White Rose

 

Ours will be the last passion of the final night of love.

She will recall she was begotten by me in calm deep waters,

while dreaming inside space, in the always unfolding

at the still center of time, in the burnished brilliance.

 

I search for the Beloved whose Mystic Body is a Red Rose.

 

I am he who desires to be not two, but one with she

whose perfect longing is burning us into white ashes.

She whose pure heart can be content with no other.

She who patiently awaits the arrival of her lost Lover.

 

I search for the Beloved who is The Rose without Thorns

 

I seek only the Beloved, she who is fully Awake.

My Sacred Heart will accept no one but the Other.

I seek only the Beloved, she who is truly Alive,

her Sacred Heart will accept no one but the Lover.

I seek only the Beloved, she who does not slumber,

she who is free of dream and profane webs of obsession.

I seek only the Beloved, she who burns, as I burn, in Holy Fire.

She who would be swept, higher and higher, hand in hand,

body against body, lips against lips in an Immortal and Sacred Kiss,

into the love of Love, into Love enfolding Forever into Love without limit.

 

I search for the Fragrant Aspect of She who is the Mystic Rose.

 

For long I have seen her likeness in the Image of Mary.

Now I meditate upon a refection in the Mirror of Mirabei.

Looking into Mira’s eyes I have learned Secret Wisdom.

The Lover seeking the Beloved I am and would be, I am not.

I am the Beloved gazing upon and reflecting the Beloved.

I who am one, am two, both Lover and Beloved, sweet paradox.

She, who is neither one nor two, is me. We, together, are One.

Without the Lover meditating upon the Beloved there is no Other.

Without the Beloved meditating upon the Lover there is no Love.

 

Until you understand this, you are less than a shadow in dreaming.

 

Hail Mary, Blessed Mirror of our Silver Sorrow,

Sacred Heart of Jesus, Golden Chalice and Vessel of Love,

Beloved and Lover of all that is seen and unseen, known and unknown,

Divine Bride and Bridegroom, Bridegroom and Bride Divine,

Pray for us shadows suffering in the fire of your Divine Love.

 

 

Mark Christopher Valentine

(August 29, 2000)

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