Triple Second

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XLII.That thou hast her, it is not all my grief,And yet it may be said

I loved her dearly;That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief,A loss

in love that touches me more nearly.Loving offenders, thus I will

excuse ye:Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her;And for

my sake even so doth she abuse me,Suffering my friend for my sake to

approve her.If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,And losing her,

my friend hath found that loss;Both find each other, and I lose both

twain,And both for my sake lay on me this cross:But here's the joy;

my friend and I are one;Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone.

~ William Shakespeare

 

What is heard, in what's hearing the Autumn birds

winging south from some approaching fire,

formed in the winter-seed that feeds in discontent,

I am spent, coursed

in soaring forth in the clear sky of Flight,

of Light unbound by anything.

 

In sublimity, see this settlement of Silence... of mind not miming.

 

This is the constant stanza strummed

from the Song of the Heart,

calling long, calling into the falling

into forthwithing ItSelf. Forseeable fortunes,

torched in the Light of BuddhaMind.

 

So much Shine, shone,

in so little mind, known.

 

There are no saving-grace soothesayers

to say which way points Home. I

Am the Known.

Home: this yearning burning-unburnt, unchurned,

chartless Awe, the fatal flaw igniting

amidst the cinder ruins, amongst the ash

and glory, the hoary frost formed

of rapture and passion's

irrefutable, irrepressable Beauty...

 

Fana... scorch finale, fire fini and a burning galley

of grieving ghosts giving up the ship

that sails the Sea of Me...

Seeing so clearly the finesse of Yes.

 

In Arjun's quest, I best Myself in stealth

and the archer's art

of stoic, stillpointed concentration,

kept incalculably accurately aimed

upon the eye of the frame-bird

of my beliefs and conceits...and I Am the Kill-Joy

of all my flighted fancies, laid to waste ...

with fearlessness and the courage

of a Warrior Wooed and Weaned on becoming

and the Unbecome.

 

Welcome, welcome! All Wearers of the Barren Womb!

In aplomb and plumb, I Bloom in heartbreak and woe.

Where the mind goes, the Heart knows,

and It shows all tides turning against time.

If I could Mime one minstrel of this Mystery, in the history

of my lives, I would ride the Light of Lack,

and lose myself in God As Absence.

 

O! Happy Cursed Heart! Here risk feeling all things

sacred and profane, and in this uncharted, un

measured falling rain

staining this day with Moist-Lovedness in refrain,

let me feel the gain of what I lack!

 

Let me be the lack of all my asking.

Let me be the back of every mirror appearing.

Let me live nearer in the Unknowable Nearness...

 

Let me, Love, let me Love ...Let Love perfectly,

Love Perfectly in Me.

 

 

 

"Where is it that we were together? Who were you that I lived with,

walked with? The brother, the friend? Darkness, Light; strife and

love...Are they the workings of one mind, the features of the same

face? Oh my soul! Let me see you now! Look out through my eyes at the

things You made. All things shine."

 

~ Witt, "The Thin Red Line"

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie