In dreams I was the longed-for rain and you the fertile soil,
and when I fell into your waiting field, eccentric flowers
began to bloom and blossom, strange aromatic flowers
which nobody had a name for, nor do they even now.
Thus it was: when curious animals on twos and fours
approached, drawn by the alluring floral perfume,
they became so intoxicated by the fragrance
that they collapsed in a giddy euphoria
which endured for so long that it eventually
became their permanent state and condition.
And it happened that many seekers sought them out,
to sit with them and receive their grace, which was
but a fraction of the power of the flowers sprouting
from the union of I and Thou, Thou whom I worship
and adore as rain does a fertile soil, far beyond
any dreaming, though there is only dreaming.
I praise this cycling dream of sweet rain and fertility,
the same timeless grace which forms my heart feeling
into these simple words of wonder, placed with devotion
as a fragrant floral offering at the altar of the Beloved,
the one whose gracious gift of eternal potentiality
magically forms, dissolves, then re-forms itself
in dreams of rooting seeds and budding leaves,
even as this poem itself is going up in light!