Mumbling My Way Home...Stuttered StarShine

[Guest guest]

A basket-maker from Tabriz

kept Shams on an Infinitely long rope of the One,

the OneHeart in the form of Ruknaddin Sanjabi!

So simple then to understand this hymn:

 

"Morning breeze, bring news

of beauty. Slowly, please.

Let the fresh fragrance stay."

 

We live disconnected from Love,

disconcerted with Love's Laughter falling

like a breeze across our skin-stipples

standing up and tasting Sky-Love.

Taste the Sky, Luv!

 

Nothing small, except our Smallness

when necessary for doing small

heartstep-things,

is ever about our family business.

We are all about an Immensity,

a Generosity of Majesty,

A Majesty of Magnificence,

A magnificent Marvel of Maya!

We are onto God,

and He's not going anywhere,

Any Where without me,

inside the Nowhere, and

 

"Nowhere, Inside The Majesty again,

without breaking open inside this HeartGlass!"

 

Spilling is all I ever asked for.

Filling is all I ever cried for.

Now it's all about Spill-Filling,

Fill-Spilling, oh friend!

Feel my WineSpills speaking only tenderness!

 

Sometimes, when the Friend really,

 

R E A L L Y

 

wants to break our hearts,

He will answer our prayers,

exactly like we asked for them,

exactly as we saw our selves receiving them.

 

But the catch is always hidden inside the blessing!

Hidden within this getting something,

of thinking we're getting something

for very little of our Nothing,

we forget that nothing is ever free.

We forget the price of kissing is "Your Life."

 

The prayer for me is to cease needing to pray,

 

but rather this:

 

To become Prayer ItSelf in every dazzled atom,

in every sizzled synapse

singing along the Lightstrings

strung up to point the direction for the Soul.

It always points Inward.

 

The pointer being that the point is,

that there is no point to anything

that is being said here.

 

Unless the point is Pointless,

poignantly painting a pun, a pick-dilly-ickle

of our conundrums coming down and clapping!

This is the Clap of Shams' thunder!

This is maybe the clap, the STD of God!

We are all infected with His Love Disease,

and we might as well tell the world of all our lovers now.

Someone needs to tell the lovers that some,

some incurable Soul-Sex, Love Disease

has been infiltrating the entire Body-Mind System!

 

He might, he maybe might give good GodHead

to all the Headless Ones,

but He sure does know,

He most assuredly knows the Art

of how to slip That Ruby-Tongue

>>>>>S-T-R-A-I-G-H-T>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

a dead-drop, Unutterable in perfect,

mathematical Line, the Last Line

straight-plunging

of His Sweet Murmured Nectar,

into the Heart of Hearts.

Straight into my Soul.

But with a million twisting turnings

revolvings, resolutions, revolutionary

transcendence into Bliss.

Blessenations of His Emmanations

of Essence, of Being.

 

I appear to be some honey-tongued Liar!

Straight then turning like a flower towards the Sun,

which way and what is she babbling on about?

 

This is not what it appears to be.

This is not any form of an answer to anyone.

This bit is just a card-shuffler's showroom!

 

Blackjack!

 

Wanna bet if it was the House

or the table-sitting crowd

that hit the 21?

 

Ka-Ching!

And Walla Walla Bing Bang!

 

 

Love,

Mazie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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