Wine Walk and Talk

[Guest guest]

The smallness of being

in this largesse of God's Grace,

 

it takes a giant Mind

to even understand the dynamics of this.

 

And this i is not a lake of Knowing,

not a pool, not a pond, not a river.

 

it's just a small puddle that formed

from a Handprint of the Beloved One.

 

When the Beautiful Beautiful decided

to make me into Wine, oh the crushing!

 

The grapes were too green it seemed,

but He said, "No, we need this." Say what?!

 

What possibly could a bitter round clump

of unripe ideas and unformed concepts offer?

 

For the poignancy of wanting to become Wine

even before the grapes form inside the Vineyard.

 

That's the Sweetness that imbues

the Fragrant Cup of This Song for God.

 

it's in the longing for Union

in which Union will occur. It must be Wanted,

 

Wanted more than breath,

more than blood flowing, more than even Life.

 

There is nothing less that will move

That One to Look our way.

 

Beloved wants it All. Everything

and nothing less than That giving.

 

Emptied out of long ago mistakes,

old ways of vinting up the Red and White,

 

There begins to appear a rose-colored,

and then a pale amber liquid pooling

 

in the well of the Heart, in the cup of Love.

The Draft of Love is such a heady One

 

that It Sweetens even the Goblet it sits in.

Breaking the wineglass spills more than just Wine.

 

The entire Soul-Wound slips across the Room and stops.

The wound is being healed with each successive drink.

 

So as the Winey, Savored, Flavored Heart

of Love and God is sipped really slowly,

 

The Essence of Smoothness is seen in the Face,

startling, it appears as a blush, a Soul-flush.

 

Seeping into every crack and crevasse of worries,

This Holy Wine is the hair of the Dog that bit us.

 

It lifts the head into Clouds of Blue and Violet,

regales the Mouth with sweet memories of swallowing Light.

 

And the Symphony of Flavors breaking open in the Reddest,

in the Ruby-Kissed, the Brightest Spot in the Heart,

 

it's That center Point of Stillness and Stopping Glances,

It's That place where we meet again with Shams and Mevlana,

 

with Hafiz and Lalla, with Attar and Sanai and Saadi.

The Deepest Sphere of Rippling Bliss as Blue echoes,

 

That's where we talk with these Sacred Beings

of the Sacred Heart of the Solemnity of Jesus,

 

and the Sudden Cacaphony of Scattered Laughter,

That's the Mystery of this Heart-Wine, It suddenly Sobers.

 

Sobered into Sobhet, Cavorted

into Conversation, with You,

 

i begin to See a myriad of Moonlit Movement,

of moving Scenes and Sights speaking in Symbols.

 

The Symbolic Signing of SweetHearts into the Moment,

and the Beloved Maestro asks for the signal to Begin.

 

The signal is the Sound of any Heart approaching Joy,

approaching a deeper sense of Bliss and Utter Giving Up.

 

There is some kind of Wine that has no Color and no Scent.

It's made from a Heart that has left the world for Love.

 

And in that giving up everything,

That emptying out of all the hopes ever hoped for,

 

and delivering back to God every dream ever held as dear,

The Soul of the One who always cried for the Beloved Friend,

 

is Sent into a Paroxism of a Parody

of the Shining Self becoming Something Other,

 

Some THING Other than a smallness of ideas about Wine.

Some Immensity of Love's Opened SpaceSkyHeavenHeart is Seen.

 

Seeing That God-Blue that has no equal, and even,

and/or another other, so Cooly You, as The Blue of Huuuu...

 

The last Lift into the Mystery of WineBliss Kissing

is revealed inside the sparkling bubbles rising Up.

 

Each tiny orbed greeting, rounded and lifted

from the Effervescent One floating Free as Freedom's Falling,

 

breaks open and the inside is out and the outside is in.

And this Bursting of illusion and delusion

 

about the Tavern-Keeper and What he sells and gives away,

It simply leaves a residue of Some Flower's Fluttered Petals,

 

that turned to Wine. Every speck of the surface of the Soma-Juice,

It's covered with an endless field of Daisy-Chains,

 

and papier-mache figures of Ixnay and some forms of Yah,

and so many other multi-dimensional plumes of lumens.

 

We must leave this Tavern and this Garden walled up inside.

There is a Parade going by and this drunkneness

 

is getting so old. Someone has left the Door opened,

left the Key and the sledge-hammer just lying in the present.

 

So entering into the last Wine-Drinking Judgement Day,

What a grand surprise to find that we never left the Vineyard!

 

We never left the purpled skins we had around us,

We never lifted off and left our twigs or muskiness,

 

We never let a single worm get into the clumping sweetness.

We never even allowed a single, not a one,

 

no tiny green grape to pass our Mouths.

Somehow we Knew that We were the Brut to Be soon born.

 

Somehow we knew that if we drank up

any of the Wine of Selfishness, as green-greed,

 

took a swig, a single sip of its Transcendence not given yet,

we would miss the Holy-Harvest and be the Chaff forever blowing,

 

be the Chaff and be forever blowing

in some Lonely Wind of Self-created Forgetfulness.

 

What's the use of anything this silly poem says to you?

It makes no sense and in that senselessness,

 

we find Perfect Blending succor from Such Grapes,

Such Sweet Orbed ones with a Soul that stirs,

 

that stays ready for God's Kind of Crushing into Bliss, blows,

into a New Kind of Blessed Beloved's Beautiful Wine

 

of Unconditonal Love Floating across this Mauve and Red,

Simply stilling the Hushed Creatures we hold at bay each lifetime.

 

An entire Drunk-tank is being set free tonight!

Come and meet them at the Jailhouse doors being opened!

 

You must Know by Now that the Doors to jail and freedom,

they are both carved and hewn inside your Own Heart. Open them!

 

Love,

Mazie

 

 

 

 

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