In your light I learn how to love
In your beauty, how to make poems
You dance inside my chest,
where no one sees you,
but sometimes I do,
and that sight becomes this art.
Birdsong brings relief
to my longing.
I am just as ecstatic as they are,
but with nothing to say!
Please, universal soul, practice
some song or something, through me!
The way of love is not a subtle argument.
The door there is devastation.
Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling,
they’re given wings.
“I am all orders of being,
The circling galaxy,
the evolutionary intelligence, the lift,
and the falling away.What is,
and what isn’t. You know Jellaluddin,
You the one in all,say who I am.
Say I am you.”
In a boat down fast-running creek,
it feels like trees on the bank are rushing by.
What seems to be changing around us
is rather the speed of our craft
leaving this world.
“When you are in the Kaaba it doesn’t matter which way you point your prayer rug.”
This world is a mountain.
What we do is a shout.
The echo comes back to us.
I have lived on the lip of insanity,
wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door. It opens
I’ve been knocking from the inside!
This we have now is not imagination.
This is not grief or joy.
Not a judging state,
Those come and go.
or an elation,
This is the presence that doesn’t.
I am an image you stitch with gold thread
on a tapestry, the least figure,
a playful addition.
But nothing you work on is dull.
I am part of the beauty.
“Let the beauty we are be what we do.
There are many ways to kneel down
and kiss the earth.”
“Although we seem to be sleeping,
there is an inner wakefulness
that directs the dream,
and that will eventually startle us back
to the Truth of who we are.”
( submitted by Bo)
The clear bead at the center changes everything.
There are no edges to my loving now
I’ve heard it said there’s a window that opens
from one mind to another,
but if there’s no wall, there’s no need
for fitting the window, or the latch.
( submitted by Marg )