Licking Light as Delight

[Guest guest]

:

Looking into the Heart of God

i see only me! Whee! It's really me!

Darting my Love-Light and

my Pinkish-Red Dawn Tongue

of the Only One with a Mouth,

i Taste the Heart of every Lover -

 

And we're all just the Naked Ones

wanting to get laid by God!

 

We're all just the Single One wanting

a Date with the Dateless One.

Maybe He's a date tree wanting

to be picked by me, or

maybe He just Wants

to get picked-up by me.

Don't you just Love those

One-Night Stands?

 

Seeing the fronds of every Heart waving

like some Happy-Bliss Tree

burning up for Love of Love Alone,

 

and with each leaf of a Life

sprouting forth in the Sun of

being Kissed by the Friend,

 

and the really Friendly Friend always

Grabbing at my Glad,

always Fondling my own Heart fronds,

i know that God just wants to

 

Touch

 

and Kiss

 

and Get It On with

 

Himself!

 

Herself!

 

The Only Self -

 

 

You!

 

 

You may not want to do this,

but i assure you,

God gives really Good GodHead!

 

Gotta give it to Him,

He really Knows how to

make One Squeal As Delight.

 

Dare i say more about the Moment of

That Climactic Cataclysm we're given

when we give it all up to God?

 

Go down to the river of the Heart and

get all Wet with the Water of

the Blissful One's Coming.

 

As Rabindranoth, you know,

one of those Tagore boys once said -

 

"He Comes, Comes, ever Comes."

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie

[Guest guest]

, "mazie_l" <sraddha54@h...> wrote:

 

Go down to the river of the Heart and

get all Wet with the Water of

the Blissful One's Coming.

 

 

 

 

 

Suspended between night and dawn,

bittersweet loneliness washes over me

in this expectant moment --

not a personal melancholy

(although "it's all personal"),

but more like a universal yearning of

the ocean for its rivers, or the sky

for its cloud companions.

 

There seems a kind of woundedness

inherent in this human form --

the womb of art and soul.

 

I recall a childhood picture:

Jesus, chest opened, pointing to the

heart surrounded by a crown of thorns.

 

Doctrinal explanations never satisfied me –

only by slipping into that heart myself

did I begin to get a feeling for

the paradox of one heart here

within the OneHeart

everywhere.

 

 

But then –

 

Yes!

 

The old Yaqui was right –

there is a crack between the two worlds!

 

At this moment,

in the soft pre-dawn drizzle,

not a breeze stirs and yet,

as I look out my window,

my spirit steps through that crack, and

shifts into another realm.

Or has it been this realm all along, but I –

so hypnotized by the usual beliefs –

have been too blind to see?

 

Impossibly, the many trees before me

begin to weave and sway in a sort of

orchestrated dance –

all in different directions,

but perfectly coordinated in a

movement that is wild,

ecstatic!

Free!

 

They are alive as consciousness itself,

and they are within me, laughing

in this recognition of our

undivided being!

 

All the birdsong joins this

crazy chorus of Life loving Life,

and I am broken into spasms of joyful weeping,

and there is only this immense Being

bursting with unbearable Happiness,

and the earth is rolling in sure, steady bliss,

and the soft rain now is nothing but nectar,

Sublime Wetness of sweet lovely Life,

and all my sacred lovers are One Lover, Heart

Garlanded with the Crown of Creation,

Source of every river spilling wildly

through the landscape of our futility,

irrigating the dryness of our despair with the

nourishment of Remembrance Itself,

Remembrance of That to Which

all rivers must return, and I begin

to feel like some enormous aviary

embracing all the varied birdlife within,

and all the lovely birdsong, the trees, the

world, all worlds, all beautiful breathing beings,

with only a thin perforated mesh of boundary

that arcs nearly transparent between what sings within

and the Enormity of Song extending in all directions

beyond this fragile Love-sifted shell of Heart,

crowned with the Wreath of Its Mystery.

 

LoveAlways,

 

b