When we are not love
We are but the echo of the past
Thrown into the future,
For as we were made
So shall we make the world.
Only in love
Are we exposed,
Waking from the dream
Of happening without volition,
Happening without choice or will.
Only in love
Can we see the bones
Of being,
And choose,
Choose our way through.
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.
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.
The heart
Through which I look
Burns like a torch.
Like the sun, it does not combust
But ejects the plasma of love,
The light of life
Bringing all things to seeing.
The heart
Through which I look
Is ever replenishing.
The matter of it conveys my words,
Offering warmth in waves,
Carrying all things
Within the everness of its totality.
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.
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.
The lonely heart
Is beyond tired:
It is absent.
Acknowledge the absence,
The dept
The insatiable wanting.
See it,
See the absolute truth
Of the hungry heart
And the deepest moment
Where two possibilities balance
Side by side,
Where one thing
Becomes its opposite,
And slides
From dept to fullness,
From hunger to wholeness
From wanting to satisfied,
For the heart is alive
And brimming
With warmth,
Not lonely
Or tired,
Just present.
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.
distilledvoice 