Sighs & Moaning

[Guest guest]

Dear Friends,

 

Sometimes it's really a strange feeling to always think in poem and

to speak in poem. It goes on perpetually it seems, during waking,

dreaming and sleeping, working or playing, while talking or singing,

at all times, this continuous flow of poetic meanderings with my

Beloved, the Beloved's own Darling. It is a sobhet of sorts, no

actually it IS sobhet that never ever seems to end. Joy is always

filling these Heart-Cups with such Sweet Laughter and Mirth. We only

know that we must sing, so we sing and we laugh and we share. Love

does what it wants with us and we follow along dancing in the Light

like children lost in the wonder of it all.

 

 

I see your glowing Glance

in the Dance of the starfields,

those bright beggars.

They have the galactic whirling,

the shimmer of blessedness abounding,

but they do not know our dance,

our whirling,

our shimmered blessings.

I awakened one morning

and walked out into the Starield of Myself,

and saw nothing but You,

You in every Floral Fountain,

every seedy face.

We breathed Your Colors,

we sang Your Mysteries

in all our own petaldom.

So much Joy surrounding,

abounding,

we become a sky of birdflowers,

flying across the reflection held

in Your Pupiled-Void of All-Seeing.

This love,

this life,

this longing,

is sheet music You inscribed in me

when I was cut from Your Reedbed

and You emptied me out for You,

for Your Breath to begin the music struck

into my being at Your Sigh.

Make me groan for more.

Make me Your Own Moaning.

Sigh away this life...

 

Sigh from me.

 

 

In such sighing,

vast emptiness exhales.

 

Listen, my Darling –

there is nothing, nothing

but our secret moan:

 

nothing sacred or profane,

nothing greater or smaller,

nothing known or anonymous,

nothing happy or sad,

nothing good or bad,

nothing moving or at rest,

nothing light or dark,

nothing before or after,

nothing wanted or resisted,

nothing saved or loosed,

nothing blessed or cursed,

nothing far or near,

nothing hard or soft,

nothing hot or cold,

nothing given or taken,

nothing lost or found,

nothing wet or dry,

nothing speaking or silent,

nothing real or unreal,

nothing profound or shallow,

nothing caused or uncaused,

nothing formed or formless,

nothing right or wrong,

nothing at peace or war,

nothing to cling to,

nothing to abhor,

nothing united,

nothing divided,

nothing ended,

nothing begun,

nowhere to run to,

no one to run.

 

As surely as this sigh

makes mystery, between

the out-breath and the in,

we are that mingled moaning

every starfield whirls within.

 

Sitting in this nowhere seat,

inwardly groaning for You,

everyone who touches me gets

dizzy and begins to moan.

 

They get a taste of nothing, and

then they are exhaled.

 

They become the breathing colors,

floral fountains, sky of birdflowers,

shimmering blessedness, joy abounding,

beggars no more.

 

When You walk out

into that starfield of Yourself,

nothing will surround You

but our moaning.

 

You will remember

that sheet music from the reedbed,

when I emptied You out of me,

for our Sigh

to begin again.

 

For our Life

to begin again.

 

You will smile.

 

I will groan.

 

Such sighing,

such sighing ....

 

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie & b