The Heart's Way of Doing Things

[Guest guest]

Great banks of blackberry vines

line the walk winding down the hill.

In the middle of that thorny, tangled

blossoming, roses bloom like a red robe.

 

The deepest, darkest, crimson roses

are spilling from the center of that wildness.

Sometimes our hearts are like that,

a thornfield warning wayfayers,

warning the Lovely Beloved One too,

saying, "Don't come in here,

don't come too close, we have sharp,

sharpest thorns to keep you all away

from ever plucking this Heart-Fruit,

from ever touching a single flower here.

 

What a wonderful dichotomy we all are!

We divide our Heart into two camps of want.

One wants the Fruit for just its own feeding,

the other one wants to feed the entire world!

One wants to offer blooms of Lotus-Love everywhere,

and the other wants to bury them in soot and ash.

 

We are surely the astronomical equivalent to the Moon!

Half of our Heart is Illuminated and the other,

it sits and stares at the wall of Darkness,

not Seeing the Shine that Permeates every

curling, coursing tenderness that flows there.

 

Every time the Earth makes a full rotation,

and every monthly adventure it moves along in,

the Blessed Moon shows Her face of Love and Light.

The Heart is like this, like the rotating earth,

and like the Moon of Love and Light that appears,

That appears when we turn back to the Light of the Sun.

And that Sun is Shams and the Beloved Beautiful One.

 

When the Grace of Love wants to wed two Hearts,

She causes an Ineffable Luminescence to start Shining.

Inside the Inner Core of Bright's Fire-White Lightness,

the Beloved One lifts Her Hand and stirs the Flames.

The Flame of Love is fanned into an Inferno of Recall.

 

That's the time when Time sinks into the Idea and drops.

Falling further into the Mystery of Eternal Joy,

the Ones with Love emblazoned in every nerve and fiber,

they begin to See some far-away Effulgence coming In.

 

Washed away in the Laughter of the Sea of Mirth Itself,

Alone, Aware, the Heart begins to capture the Echo of ItSelf.

Stilled to the Depths of Knowing that i Am You, and You, I,

the breaking into such Bliss-shuddering Sunder of separation,

We Are given over to a Samadhi so Stunningly Sublime,

there is no more the need to even say another word.

 

 

 

 

 

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[Guest guest]

Namaste

Zenbob