Gentle, gentle, gentle light
You are the mother’s smile
Upon the newborn child,
A gift
In loving wonderment.
And who upon the earth
Is not lifted by this?
Whose heart is not afloat
Despite the wretched mires
Of fearful belief?
Whose heart does not beat
In time with this deeper song?
Thank you for this gentle light
Bathing both body and mind,
Infusing the raw matter
With the seed of life
And holding the heart aloft
In its rightful place,
In love’s essential spirit.
In your subtle magic
I feel the breeze of God
Blow fresh upon my face,
As though my heart were dipped in you
And open to receive
The gift of love
In its dreamy magnitude.
Oh, but this is just poetry
And the facts of your warm breath
Are the melting
In the melting,
The dissolution of the self
As one salt drop becomes the sea,
Where worry is made redundant
By the loving,
And fears
Are turned to whispered nothings,
And the heart reins full
And beautiful,
Seeing beyond the body’s boundaries,
Smiling upon the mind
And the thoughts
And the self importance,
Utterly disintegrated.
What is there to discover
Beyond the warm heart?
What need is there
That the warm heart cannot vanquish?
I would settle here,
In the valley of green possibility
Where dreams manifest
In the twinkling of a joyful eye.
I would rest awhile,
Sit quietly on a rock
And watch the day unfold,
Listening to the silence and the twittering birds.
For the day is as broad as being
And warm on my upturned face,
My eyelids resting comfortably closed.
And I can hardly discern
If it’s the sun’s touch
That so warms,
Or some inward principle
At the centre of me.
You are always here.
Sometimes, I turn away,
Riding the maelstrom of my thoughts
Until I’m dizzy,
But you are always here.
And Sometimes my mind strays
Convoluted paths
To past and futures imaginary,
But still you are always here.
I remember when I thought you were not,
Couldn’t even imagine
A way out of the bubble of my loneliness,
Seeing only glimpses to highlight
My misery at being so lost;
But you were always here.
If you are self or God,
Or even make believe,
I am glad that you are always here
Because you are always here.
The morning is fresh
Upon the dew soaked forms
Called to their greater love
In the body of the sun.
Everything is light
And as apparent as my condensing breath,
The world and my heart alive,
Brought by a transient glistening.
I would give you the warmth of my heart,
Let it out free
So we might sit
In the joy of togetherness,
Knowing that the warmth is neither you
Or me, being wholly unowned
And untouched by our mind’s dabbling.
I would give you the warmth of my heart,
To know the warmth of my heart
And because
This is how it was meant to be,
You and I friends,
Free in our being,
Happy because we are.
I would give you the warmth of my heart,
For the gift is ours
Only in its giving,
And I am tired of the old ways
Of a scant life attempted
In the absence of love.
I have drunk
From the standpipe
Of sour belief,
Constricted and miserly,
Gripping every drop
In an effort to control preciousness,
Becoming a gaunt shadow
Because of it,
For I am a man of this world.
Oh but the world urges to flow outward,
And the standpipe,
Rusty and dripping poverty,
Is but the mind’s eagerness
To hold love down.
For there are some
Whose eyes see beyond the standpipe
To the infinite source,
A waterfall
In which all need
Is foiled in an everlasting deluge.
And for others there is no standpipe
Denying the flow,
Only the mind
Constructing a fictional valve,
Dispensing injustice
And such a limited view.
For energy is free for all,
And you may drink your fill
Until you are full and wholesome
And ready to share
All the light in the world,
Knowing there is no end to it.
