ShivAllahSita sutra 4

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I didn't trust it for a moment,but I drank it anyway,the wine of my own poetry.

It gave me the daring to take holdof the darkness and tear it downand cut it into little pieces.

~Lalla

 

Here we languish, a bunch of poor scholars,battered by extremes of

hunger and cold.Out of work, our only joy is poetry:Scribble,

scribble, we wear out our brains.Who will read the works of such

men?On that point you can save your sighs.We could inscribe our poems

on biscuitsAnd the homeless dogs wouldn't deign to nibble

Hermits hide from mankindMost go to the mountains to sleepWhere green

vines wind through woodsAnd jade gorges echo unbrokenHigher and

higher enrapturedOn and on simply freeFree of what stains the

worldMinds pure like the white lotus

If you are looking for a place to rest,Cold Mountain is a good place to stay.

~Han Shan

 

Love lit a fire in my chest, and anything

That wasn’t love left: intellectual

Subtlety, philosophy

Books, school.

All I want now

To do or hear

Is poetry…

I was happy enough to stay still

Inside the pearl inside the shell,

But the hurricane of experience

Lashed me out of hiding and made me

A wave moving into shore, saying loudly

The ocean’s secret as I went, and then

Spent there, I slept like fog against

The cliff, another stillness.

~Rumi

 

Distilled from the Heart-Source,

Essence of Light,

Fragrant Attar of SweetWine,

The one who writes drunken Lovesongs

And sonnets upon the river of mind

Is the One Who Writes

Drunken Lovesongs and Sonnets

Upon the River of Mind.

OneHeart spills into Itself –

Loving the Mystery.

~Mitzvah

 

LoveEternal.

 

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