Imageless

[Guest guest]

Is not

This Is

endless manifestations of Love?

It is

was

and ever shall be.

Then what could possibly be

less or more?

All is expression and modifications

of Love, of This Is,

ever rising like waves in an inward

sea, flowing and receding an unknown landscape.

 

We are the beauty of a rose having

forgiven her own thorns.

We are the simple dance of a white cloud

touched by holy men and women having climbed a

mountain called Arunachala,

We are the glory of colours in the dying of leaves;

the white stillness of snow under winter's footsteps.

We are the rage of angels and the rainbows devas

shower in their feathered aftermath,

We are the cosmic dancer at once

absolute nothingness and the sublimity of presence.

We are the song the wind sings as it passes

through the silent mind.

 

We are lost and we are found in the sacred

temple of the Self, ever homeward bound,

ever losing ourselves along the Way,

redeemed for all time's sake, for the

sake of all Beings.

We are the death of life and the living dead.

We are the light of awareness in the hearts

of human dearkness; the breast

of milk and honey in the small acts of human kindness.

We are the compassion of all Buddhas.

We are the sword and the hand.

 

What more can be said of this?

We are the length, breadth, height and

depth of Love encirling the world and every war

created of words,

even to the end of all that is near and

all that is distant;

we give life, we live and die, reborn

in 10,000 realms of all heavens and hells,

to ask the only question we can never ever know:

 

Who am I?

 

 

Love,

Anna

 

8/20/06