Tanka-Murti meTalks of Nothing Much

[Guest guest]

Sometimes now the thin veil

between this world

and some other, finer view

is parted.

i am without substance

like a bamboo shoot,

rootless and leafless,

but bamboo nonetheless.

Small spaces are somehow

smaller getting yet, and yet,

and yet i am my own voice filtering

me through them like whispers.

i Hear the Heart Whispering scripture.

 

i am the wick extinguised

and flaming into space

simultaneously with

the Heart-bursting burn

of my Beloved's fire-flick Face igniting

into the Face of Shiva.

 

My skin is alive with prana-prosad

coursing like snakes and blossoms,

both moving like as in a breeze

of some fragrance that lifts

and spills as it tastes ItSelf

beneath my skin and in my bones,

every sinew alive and licking with flames

that inflame this Passionate Heart.

 

Leaping into keeping the pact,

i read the words of God

across the Sky of my Heart-Sky crying

when i sleep at night,

awake and singing

with Devas and Angels and

Archangels and b.

 

i become transparent in air

as air breathed by the Beloved One.

i find sustenance and nourishment

in the Kiss of His Heart into mine.

Love holds Its Breath to deep-taste

and tongue-tanka with Beloved, the Only

One in this Beautiful b,

this Being of Beauty

breaking into Hearts like a thief.

"I shall come as a thief in the night..."

 

The only sound heard is not heard

with the ears.

The space between these lines is the scripture

that left lace-like intricate

calligraphic ashes scattered around my pillow

last night and now. And now

these words will have to do.

 

i shed these weighty and wax-like "what is not"

words like a skin i begin to feel tingle and tear apart.

i can only whittle initials of the One here.

Inside the Core of the story

one might find something or

nothing. Both equal in what cannot be said.

 

i am become pure in this sloughing off

what never was in the first place.

i feed on my bones in hunger

for the Beautiful Beloved One Alone.

i am become pure blood offered as Wine.

There is a truth in what we have not said here.

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie

[Guest guest]

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

>i am become pure in this sloughing off

what never was in the first place.

i feed on my bones in hunger

for the Beautiful Beloved One Alone.

i am become pure blood offered as Wine.

There is a truth in what we have not said here.

 

 

 

)))) They say there's Veritas in Vino,

but this wine makes everybody speechless!

 

The Sommelier at your table leans close,

winks, and pours you a taste –

just enough for the bouquet,

reminiscent of smoked beliefs with

a subtle hint of the perfume of

a familiar sense of self, to

fill your nostrils.

 

You are encouraged by some

mysterious interior appetite to

proceed, intrigued.

 

You raise the glass of

earnestness to your lips, wet

already with desire for

the end of desire, and

unexpectedly

you fall in.

 

There are fleshy complexities to this

chalice you only now realize

swirls with your own blood.

 

You float in a womb of wine, a cask

awaiting the inevitable uncorking that

will deliver you to the world once more,

just as it has done again and again

with each successive birth, and all

for but a taste, just one

 

more

 

taste.....

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

b