Source

The flower of my heart

Blooms on a stem

Of gossamer energy,

Upsurging from the world

Behind the world,

The space that is formless.

My heart smiles on me

As the heart behind the heart smiles,

As love comes

Like a river from the source:

Like a river from the source

Provided endlessly.

Love Is

Love is movement,

A gift,

Unowned

Yet given.

You can not hold it

Only ask

Or make a beautiful wish

Or speak a prayer

To expand and broaden the world.

It is not yours

But you may use it,

Feel the expansion

As it flows away,

Your life acknowledged

As it leaves,

Yourself made Infinitely fertile.

For as it is given

The well refills

The source expands

And you are changed,

Lighter for the affirmation,

Joyous because you are more,

Loving because you gave it all away.

Where Else?

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.

Endlessly Refreshing

The air in me

Is not mine.

The bone and the flesh,

And deeper defined –

The vessels, the nerves, the cells,

And deeper still – the molecules bound,

Are not me or mine,

But companions

In a movement of time.

Am I the river, a stream?

Am I the wind,

Am I the rain?

Together we are something

And nothing.

But alive is

This dance of form expressing,

Unfolding, degrading, re-expressing,

For this world is but a wondrous garment,

Worn and tore down

Worn and torn down

Worn and torn down,

Endlessly refreshing.