Guest guest Posted October 29, 2002 Report Share Posted October 29, 2002 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 hold of the darkness and tear it down and cut it into little pieces. ~Lalla )))) Some see it cut down, some see the manifestation of a lighter body, a body beyond knives or little pieces, bliss of the whole, switchblades flying through empty space. The twist is all in a flick of the wrist, I once heard Mitzvah say, and yes I sure agree, Beloved 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 biscuits And the homeless dogs wouldn't deign to nibble. ~ Han Shan )))) You must have a different species in your neighborhood -- in ours they take all biscuits as prasad, in their delight reflecting the heart of the hand that feeds them. We strolled out with a bag of crumbs, our offering to the Holy Spirit in the forms of hovering seagulls, superb at mid-air stabs, gathered geese, mallards to die for, Sat, Chit & Ananda, calligraphy of our perpetual poetry the poetry of communion the kiss upon itself as this Beloved's perpetual poem living us line by line. Hermits hide from mankind Most go to the mountains to sleep Where green vines wind through woods And jade gorges echo unbroken Higher and higher enraptured On and on simply free Free of what stains the world Minds pure like the white lotus If you are looking for a place to rest, Cold Mountain is a good place to stay. ~Han Shan )))) If you want to hide from mankind, better to walk among them. If you want a good place to stay, Cold Mountain's hard to beat, since there is only Cold Mountain, and yet there is nothing there. Within Cold Mountain the world is stainless, and yet the distance between Cold Mountain and the world does not exist, and thus beyond taint or purity we can rest, composing poetry about white lotus, and the breeze is just right, tonight 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 )))) Heart-struck, from this cliff moonlight falls with no place to land. 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 ))) I've heard some talk of such a One -- this "Only God" Hallaj spoke of, in the midst of some hot weather -- but when I set out to find such a One I left Him, smiling, waving "Good-by!" at the door, even as He has always walked with me as I walk through myself. His Love is little understood, but one may sing in Praise regardless -- it's a no-cost option of the House. Jai ShivAllah! ShivAllah Ki Jai! LoveEternal. ))) Om Namah ShivAllah! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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