Here is how we are:
Spooned together, we lay blended, suspended,
floating horizontal in an infinitely expanding room
filled with luminous signs of our own design.
Vast spaciousness, no boundary – we drift slowly out
from the density of our two bodies and into our etheric third,
the one living us now as how we are, the one without center
or circumference, the one before even or odd,
before all the words we use for God.
Now we are ready, because ready now is how we are,
tuned together, sifted into this blend without end,
when the wind chime softly chimes, so suddenly
that everything we are, were, or will be falls perfectly
into itself, fitted precisely into place in space,
as if nothing ever really fell.
Sleepily, we catch rumors of that falling.
Our invisible body moves, liquefies, utterly bereft
of any two-ness now, loving itself increasingly sweetly,
each sigh in our room a mantra for souls that pause
to breathe it all in — yes, all of it.
We make the sign of how we are, the sign of love
beyond all names, and beyond all forms this mystery
is how we are, just as we have always been,
and what may have seemed some space in time
that dreamed itself between us, some illusory distance
of which now there is no trace, beyond all that –
here we are, as we are, face to face.