early evening raga

[Guest guest]

If I walk all night

around the fountain of the Sixteen Buddhas,

the half moon tilts, spilling light,

my head tilts, spilling light,

the water spills, tilting light,

if I walk all night

around the fountain of the Sixteen Buddhas.

The light is a fire when there is yet much to burn –

tilting,

spilling into

Flame.Bright moonlight strikes

my eye,

Striking a note in the mind drum

Striking a light-year away,

or yesterday,

And all this Light striking is now

just the flametip

Of Love.

When it becomes exceedingly clearthe flametip is bigger than what it

burnsall fantasy of resistance evaporates –smoke before the

Blaze.Circular light

Ascending and descending

Within itself -

The breadth and depth

Of the Heart swings

The Arc of Existence -

Infinitely Sparkling

Love . . . Ignites.

Circle with no circumference –Heart's infinite Domain.

Devas dart in and out of this creation

entertained as saints in their signature of Seva

delivering the calligraphic stroke of midnight

when the dreamer awakens

and signs, in sighs

and moans,

the Book of Life,

and the poet,

lost in Love’s Mystery

carves the symbol for Aum

upon every Heart

in vibrational

frequency,

repeating ceaselessly –

Love Is Infinite.

Tempo changes, endlessly –Circle of Bliss refuses no dance,Relishing only One Dancer.

Dancing in the fire of fana,

The thirst,

the hunger-search for God

is quenched in bhava

burning away every last idea

of separation.

The Delerious Ones Dance madly

into the Arms

of Shiva and Shakti –

All are given asylum from the mind.

Mercy is what we are least expecting, the simplest way of the land

–there's somebody we have taken for granted,offering us our hand.

LoveAlways,

Mazie & b

 

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