We Are What calls

[Guest guest]

"Close the language door and

open the love window --

the moon won't use the door,

only the window."

 

Lalla

 

 

Slipping through the moment,

the moon comes from behind the clouds

to show its face,

and realizing i am,

as Rumi says,

"Ship, rudder, sail, helmsman,

and the coral reef they founder on,"

 

 

i reach for some word

to adorn this page with for You.

My emptiness comes up

with nothing but silence.

 

Like lace across the window,

the world looks so intricate,

but there was only the first knot made

that tied the Heart to the world,

that created both of us,

and yet,

we know we are only

 

OneHeart.

 

The grasses are spearing upward

on their slow march to some unknown destiny,

becoming more than a field,

more growing into being

the single green blade

of knowing the secret

of planting the Heart of Love

inside my search for You.

 

Stones have been throwing their voices

as they crumbled,

and the disintegration brought newer,

truer freedoms in silence.

Listening intently

to my own still nearness,

i hear their growth

like the sound of something coming

from deep inside of me,

calling, whispering -

 

"Beloved, Come to Me Now".

 

Some days

there's just this sitting,

resting here within the thoughts

of grass and stones,

each of us growing alone

toward the center,

into the unraveling of the core story.

We're so near to to the truth

of what this story seeks to tell.

This Nearness to God cleaves

around both our Hearts,

golden-throating -

 

Never was this Love-Song unknown,

and remembered once again,

Only Silence has the Voice

to give It any Meaning,

any Sound.

 

 

))))))Although by now reduced to ash,

the lingering memory of the Nag Champa

still teases the nostrils.

 

The bed where my Love

spilled out to my Beloved

has become a perfumed temple where

visitors from the future will

break into spontaneous weeping.

 

Mysteriously, they will slide

like phantom tourists at a

Theme Park of the Heart

from my tongue to yours,

yours to mine.

 

To get the intimate feel of our body,

they must already have perished

to their own.

 

This is not difficult –

one need only follow

Yearning to its source.

 

There is a cask of wine

waiting there that

nobody has ever tapped.

 

The Winemaker sealed it with

a cork of humility and

placed it on a rack, inaccessible

to anyone still haunted by belief

and vague suspicion they are

other than the wine itself.

 

Permeated through and through by

the fragrance of an open ecstasy, we

roll our eyes into each other,

sinking beneath incense, ashes, wine, and

ecstasy.

 

Nobody can find us until they

stop looking and fall into

seeing.

 

These hands that

float over your skin have

crushed the starry vineyards into a

single glass of nectar.

 

When I pour this honey into you

we melt back into stars.

 

Just past twilight in the floating worlds,

certain children gaze into the new night sky and

dream of us, leaning close to them, whispering

 

"Ahhhh…………"

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie & b