love

I Call Them Home

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I call all my wants home

For each is like a hungry dog

Pulling hard on a rope,

Salivating

With the scent

Of satisfaction:

A dog’s belief

That things in the world

Can fulfil

Happiness.

–

I call them all:

The multitudes, the horde,

The ravenous pack – ever unfulfilled,

And whisper gently to them:

Sleep here by the fireside.

In my flame is the universal

– Burning without fuel

But for the fuel of the everlasting self.

Dine here

Where there is abundance

In sweet cornucopia.

Feed on that which is eternal

And drink from the ever brimming cup.

Do not look upon the world

For sustenance,

For it has nothing to give:

–

Look only to offer it love.

Love’s Resonance

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Truth is sweet upon my tongue

When I speak

From the loving perspective.

It’s as if the world warms

And expands,

Envelopes all in a delightful oneness,

A magic sprung for the heart’s

Open portal to the Word beyond.

And what of ownership?

There is none but God’s silence

Percolating and infusing

First the body,

Then the outer world,

Reaching to all infinity,

His space rightly claimed.

Truth is like honey on the tongue,

Sweeter for sharing,

Sweeter still in the expanding moment,

Wholly overwhelming

Like an encompassing wave,

And bringing all to love’s resonance.

Gift

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I dropped into myself

Settling into stillness,

Falling deeper

And ever deeper

Until I touched the reverent moment

And disappeared.

–

And now I rise

Back into the body,

Up, up, up and up

Into the world,

Wet and frictionless as a new born

As if my slick skin

Were a lung

And could drink

The divine osmosis,

Every molecule freely interchanged,

Undone in form,

Beautiful and borderless.

–

Oh, how warm

Have I come clothed in nakedness,

How touched

I am;

Come home

From home

To home,

As if when I drank from myself

The whole universe

Became a vast and comfortable blanket

That I did not drag

Upon my back

But which bore me

As though a wave of lightest medium

Harnessed me to its being

And brought me surging,

And painted gleaming new.

–

And so,

What thing I am,

What movement in which I move

Is bowed

To lowest bended knee,

And from the eyes

Tears stream

In bountiful gladness,

Lubricating the offering

I offer whole and entirely:

My heart held out

In the palm of my hand

As a gift to you,

My love,

A gift for you.

Looking Deep

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Looking deep

Inside myself,

I find things

In all degree of

Colourful multitude.

But who sees those things,

And from which vantage

Are they lit

And wholly perceived?

And so I turn around

And face the formless face of myself,

The placeless place

Lacking evidence

Of all but being’s

Un-identity.

Am I really nothing

But the looking,

But the seeing,

But the loving

Which loves itself

And loves

As a star illuminates?

For with each glance

The scent of something comes

Which fills my heart,

And when I see the love pass

I look again into nothing

And yet again

I am fulfilled.

And then, not dwelling,

I lift my eyes from the love

Which became alive,

Glance once more

To that which I cannot perceive

And look…….

Wonder In The One

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Wonder lust

In the ever opening eye,

Wider with each glimpse

Of the infinite,

Broader

With its ephemeral taste.

Oh, how I am caught

By allure,

Drawn ever deeper

And called ever on,

Wiling to give my all,

My wholeness

My life

My love,

Hold back

Not a single drop,

Give it up,

Until I have none

Until I am undone

Until I am one.

In Love

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In love

I am unmeasured by the world

And so I am free

As nothing

But the empty space,

Wide as the universe

Is unknowable,

Deep as starlight

From light years unfathomable,

Unexisting in peace

And effortlessly happy.

What am I?

What am I?

What am I?

Only the taste of falling

Inside myself,

Eternity’s sweetness

Loose on the windless wind,

Unbound and unstuck,

Devoid in the void,

Annihilated formless.

A Wish For Freedom

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To the outside world

Goes the greedy hand

Backed by the greedy mind,

Collecting

Always collecting,

As if

All the stuff of ideas

Would make a person bold

And impervious to time.

–

But how heavy it is,

How imprisoning

This reputation we call ourselves,

How enslaving

To be caged

When the deeper self

Is infinitely free.

–

A thought occurs:

To release the clothes

I thought myself,

To lie back and relax

In nakedness,

For I am not a thing in this world

But that which knows

All myriad happenings.

–

This is my wish for freedom:

A wish that settles like sediment

A wish that diminishes to peace

A wish that quietens to nothing,

Ebbs to wishlessness

And dies like a sunset.

A Loving Moment

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For a moment,

I am in love

With the world

Dancing before eyes,

The whole and beautiful spectrum.

My heart

Has broken the bounds of my body

Escaped the cage of my chest

And gone free

In the sphere

In the space

In the being.

Oh, how there is warmth in this,

Warmth in it all,

Myself mellow in my finger tips

As it it is mellow in the trees

And distant fields.

How broad is gratitude?

Broader than the flawless sky,

And deeper than seeing,

The yolk of my heart tumbling out

Until there is nothing untouched,

Nothing unglazed by light,

Nothing that isn’t dripping

With love,

As if form

Were some bizarre

And delicious flower,

Pungent and exuberantly expressing

Such divine fecundity.

Morning Stillness

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Stillness settled with the night

And did not leave,

And now a windless, blue sky

Brims with spaciousness.

Birds, twittering in the skeletal trees

Dissect the quiet, but not the stillness,

Their tongue’s music

Is the sharp edge

Of reality.

I lean against a wall

Bathed in fresh light.

Things happen in the stillness:

A car passes,

A faraway motorbike on a faraway road,

Blunter than the birds,

A squeal of a refuse truck, ever hungry.

But the stillness remains,

Deeper and more broad

Than the mind can conceive,

Deeper and more broad,

And deeper still.

The tree, standing elegantly tall

Knows the stillness intimately.

It stands beside me, thrumming

With a soundless resonance.

In the patch of sunlight

I lean against the wall,

Listening to the birds,

Knowing that stillness.