Silence Will Speak Me Tonight

[Guest guest]

Silence will speak me tonight in a way that will say it saying me,just

right – said identity: Mazie, phrasing away,blazing blue stratosphere,

hearing the fear of anonymity, and no, no! You do not wish to speak

this now,but somehow, you shall:

 

 

“Fame is watercarried in a basket.

 

Hold the wind in your fist,or tie up an elephantwith one hair.

 

These are accomplishmentsthat will make your famous.”

 

~ Lalla

 

 

Go fish! Pick the old maid card out& win the game by losing name and

hand& a place in the holy band that will not play on

past you. A single note

denotes the entire choir and instrumentalists,

the entirety of the Symphony,

or so is seen so clearly, nearly hearing nothing but...

 

Bhava, Turiya, lurid little sanskrit songs of someone

being someone who is one & not one, and yet,

this Yes, this quested question of "What IS two"... blue-hues

& moon-blooms showers of ice-light brightly hiding in the nada deux,

a sort of Xanadu, a semi-jungled juxtaposition of a Shangri-la --

 

 

“This way is the way of thosewho remember I am He, He is me….…all one soaring beauty and freedom.

No matter that we’re busy in businessnight and day. We don’t carewhat profit comes.

We live aloneinside the Lord.”

 

~ Lalla

 

 

 

 

Awe Inculcate of an Implicate Order,

ardor-activated through and through, behooved in truth, You --

it is only Me, me making Namaste and Namo-Rama Shiva-Jesus

signs with my mind inclined towards immersion in The Word

that is not heard, but known to the vibrational bone-story

rattled into reality -- Me, Mazie-named I,

& I am truly, surely certain that it is this --- You,

only You in the onus bonus crown of jewels -

 

You & You are only,

& You are always,

& You will be forever the first-born,

torn from Me, born from Me, dead & dying, in Me...

the Adorable One,

the only One --

One without an other.

 

 

“I have come to the brink of eternity from whichnothing can vanish –

no hope, no happiness,no vision of a face seen through tears.

Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean,plunge it into the deepest

fullness.Let me for once feel that lost sweet touchin the allness of

the universe.”

 

~ Rabindranath Tagore, from “Gitanjali”

 

 

 

 

Fadduh, will ya help out an old altar girl,

an old cosmic crone known to go home with death,

addicted to expressioning the lessons of life, unlearned,

a mimic burned in strife with NonConfessions of an UnMasking,

a mirror marketing itself so well it swells with silver gilt,

guilty and disgusted at the sight of its own image

swimming for freedom shores it impores others to believe

do not exist. Just this:

 

Kiss me and make the moment known

to be the atonement for all imagined sins, all wins and losses,

& the friends whom I have hurt and burnt in my rush to unsaymyself.

 

 

“Your feet thump-thump against my backand you whisper to yourself.

Child,what are you wishing? What pactare you making?What mouse runs

between your eyes? What arkcan I fill for you when the world goes

wild?The woods are underwater, their weeds are shakingin a tide;

birches like zebra fishflash by in a pack.Child, I cannot promise

very much.I give you the images I know.Lie still with me and

watch……We laugh and we touch.I promise you love. Time will not take

away that.”

 

~ Anne Sexton

 

I have learned to despise the rise of alliteration.The abnegation of

free verse bodies being sent homealone without a hearse… Oh! the

beautiful curse of versewholly immersed in the idolatry of alliterary

arbitration!

Creation! Sustanance! Dissolution!

 

In the milieu of meter and movement, behoovement does not behoove me

in any way. At play in the funeral grounds of life,expounding without

fire, expressing without breath,desire without liars laying down for

the truth,the loosening of the knots on the heart-robe are stopped.

The red-hot rejection of inflections, idiosyncrasies,inklings of

revealing all of me, ceaseand desist. The flick of the wrist and

turning facestoward the sun and the sinking sky --

 

 

“And we flicker off into the secret sea that fillsour bodies with loneliness – a darkness

never touched by moonlight or a shark’s eyes…”

 

~ Allison Eir Jenks

 

I cannot lie. But I do. I will not lie now to you.

Not now, not later, not ever forever again,

& not ever-after this is sent in to You, the Beautiful Friend.

 

This repentance and self-revelation,

it was sent to You before the beginning of time,

before I was an I trying to find out,

"Who Am I?" Who, moved by mving not into truth, forsoothed

and sworn true by plying the heart and headwaters of all of you.

 

 

"You are the heaven and You are the earth, You are the day and You are

the night, You are all pervading air, You are the sacred offering of

rice and flowers and of water; You are Yourself all in all, What can

I offer You?"

~ Lalla

 

I cannot try to compel the swelling seas,to ease up and release her

postulants of the Middle Kingdomof the Ocean’s depthless way, a

playback timebook,a Yugaic-Yama comma placed in the middle of the

sentence of sentience.

To mime death and birth unrehearsed… a firstif ever there was. Cause,

lost, cause, less than guessed& the effects are ineffectual in

deflecting this deity Me from seeing beyond and through Me, to thee &

me as onebeing. And as for me,

I see inside the knots' tangle, see into the dread-fed head-art, see

my mind & heart, unpartnered & partialto all and to no one, a shine-soul someone

who shall enthrall the audience…who will kill the props,

and chop the script to entertain... You, through me.

 

 

Be helpless, dumbfounded, Unable to say yes or no. Then a stretcher

will come from grace to gather us up.

~ Rumi

 

 

& you will piecemeal this, too. You will pull out all stops,possibly

passing by on the premise of past poemsdroning on in old tired moans

and bitching about the lotI’m in and the lot of you all. Enthralled

yet? Getting drybehind the wettened ears of fears yet? I hear the

skydrowning itself in light.

& yet, still unmet by the unbelievable ideas that this missalwill say

nothing, will miss no one’s watermarked namefalling through the famed

basket of I Am,Yes, I am…rosy-pathed palms

waving hand-signs of Hosannah to every Heart

embarked on the journey through You to the City of Light --

Jeruselumukta Mirthland.

 

 

"Don't worry about saving these songs!And if one of our instruments

breaks,it doesn't matter.We have fallen into the placewhere

everything is music.The strumming and the flute notesrise into the

atmosphere,and even if the whole world's harpshould burn up, there

will still behidden instruments playing.So the candle flickers and

goes out.We have a piece of flint, and a spark.This singing art is

sea foam.The graceful movements come from a pearlsomewhere on the

ocean floor.Poems reach up like spindrift and the edgeof driftwood

along the beach, wanting!They derivefrom a slow and powerful rootthat

we can't see.Stop the words now.Open the window in the center of your

chest,and let the spirits fly in and out."~ Rumi

 

I am still heart-stranded in time, inclined to keep onfilling up the

cup of my life with your life gone God-blue too, tuned in to the

stratosphere

of Here,here truly, where you & I ruefully and laughingly, manically act out,

addicted to the taste of my words, of your words, of our wordstinkered

out into this living rivered page.

 

 

"Jars of springwater are not enoughanymore. Take us down to the

river!The face of peace, the sun itself.No more the slippery

cloudlike moon.Give us one clear morning after anotherand the one

whose work remains unfinished,who is our work as we diminish,

idle,though occupied, empty, and open.

~ Rumi

 

 

Oh Paramour! What are we but pages

presented with a Love-wet mouth pressed

against the white, blank, clear offering being passed:

The Passion of Christ ...

where Compassion and Kindness are a common-bond –

beyond the mind of you and I.

 

A Sky of Love is falling down all around us, sounding down

in the name of God that's found us bound together.

 

 

"Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu,Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not

any religionor cultural system. I am not from the Eastor the West, nor

out of the ocean or upfrom the ground, not natural or ethereal,

notcomposed of elements at all. I do not exist,am not an entity in

this world or the next,did not descend from Adam or Eve or anyorigin

story. My place is placeless, a traceof the traceless. Neither body

nor soul.

 

~ Rumi

 

 

In this Holy Weather of words, what is unheard by the ears

is heard by the open Heart.

The key that opens you and I, lies inside Love's own Mouth.

Part your Loving, Sacred lips and taste only Inner Bliss - This:

 

Blink and I’ll be gone.

 

 

 

 

 

"In the early morning hour, Just before dawn, lover and beloved wake

And take a drink of water. She asks, "Do you love me or yourself

more? Really, tell the absolute truth." He says, "There is nothing

left of me. I'm like a ruby held up to the sunrise. Is it still a

stone, or a world Made of redness? It has no resistance to sunlight."

This is how Hallaj said, I am God, And told the truth! The ruby and

the sunrise are one."

 

~ Rumi

Denys: Where’s Belknap? I haven’t seen him.Karen: He must be in

America by now. I had to let him go. I had to, but, you don’t want to

hear about the farm, do you? I haven’t got any buttons.Denys: What are

you doing?Karen: Mending your shirt.Denys: Don’t. You don’t have to do

that. Maybe I’ll try Zambui, day after tomorrow.Karen: You just got

back.Denys: You know Felicity asked to come along and I almost said

no because I thought you wouldn’t like it, and there’s no reason for

her not to come.Karen: Yes there is. I wouldn’t like it. You want

her? Alone?Denys: I want things that don’t matter not to matter.

Karen: Then tell her no. Do it for me.Denys: And then, what else

would it be?Karen: Why is your freedom more important than

mine?Denys: It isn’t, and I’ve never interfered with your

freedom.Karen: No, and I’m not allowed to need you, or rely on you,

or expect anything from you. I’m free to leave. But I do need you.

Denys: You don’t need me. If I die, will you die? You don’t need me.

You confuse, you mix-up need with want. You always have. Karen: My

God! In the world you would make there would be no love at all.Denys:

Or the best kind… the kind we wouldn’t have to prove.Karen: You’d be

living on the moon then. Denys: Why? Because I won’t do it your way?

Are we assuming there’s one proper way to do all this? Do you think I

care about Felicity? Karen: No.Denys: Do you think I’ll be involved

with her? Karen: No.Denys: Then there’s no reason for this, is

there?Karen: If she’s not important then why won’t you give it up? I

have learned a thing that you haven’t. There are some things worth

having, but they come at a price… and I want to be one of them. I

won’t allow it Denys!Denys: You have no idea the effect that language

has on me. Karen: I used to think that there was nothing you really

wanted. But that’s not it, is it? You want to have it all!Denys: I’m

going to Zambui, and she can come or not.Karen: Then you’ll be living

elsewhere.Denys: Alright.

 

~ from “Out of Africa,” screenplay version of Isak Dinesen’s “Out of

Africa”Dialogue between Karen Blixen and Denys Finch-Hatton in 1931

 

You don’t understand a thing until you become that thing.

 

~ Rumi

 

 

 

 

 

Love,

 

Mazie