If the way to the Heart’s verdant oasis
were a route marked on some paper map,
I’d say, “Burn that fraud of an atlas!”
If the Mystery could be grasped
by the mind that reads road signs,
it wouldn’t be the Mystery.
look into your mind —
wherever your attention rests,
just stop and experience that.
Snagged on the luminous hook
of this quarter moon tonight, attention
is dragged skimming over treetops,
regardless of any pious intent.
The bark of a dog, startled at midnight,
effortlessly bridges the distance
between earth and heaven.
The song of the lone peacock
feeding your heart has waited
a lifetime for its cry to be heard.
A slice of moon, a barking dog,
the poignant cry of a calling bird –
all grant memory the kind of cloth
that Presence weaves into the robes
you’ve worn throughout this magic night.
Now she’s running to you at dawn-break
with two handfuls of freshly-picked sweet peas,
perfuming your room with her intoxicating fragrance,
and suddenly both heaven and earth are forgotten.
When her darling smile outshines the rising sun,
how long will it be before you’re swooning
in the ardor of her thrilling embrace?