Your presence is requested at
A moment of transcendence.
The mystery of turning one
Requires your attendance.
Every time I think of you, I think of love When I feel you I feel love Eyes shutter down, I go on a ride Halts, as though you come by my side Lips overcome their boundries, on a high Oasis against the deserted as I pass them by Butterflies on my belly, a bliss
I want you to know
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
For some time he lost his ease,
He could sleep and eat.
A cruel heart and lungs decease
Grasped him from beneath.
The stars quite too high for me to reach Too many either to count each The world way far apart, too hard to stitch For her heart though submits, too hard to teach And the world turns around the golden path The star, in the infinite dark sprawls fixed Thus her eyes, his presence she
There is an empty space In my heart I get lost As it echoes my thoughts. Intermingling resounds, Confuse and misdirect, I get adrift. Many voices reverberate, I feel haunted By my self-born ghosts. I run until my breath controls again With its two strings My form. Knelt down I fall Laugh aloud With soggy
A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t think I could ever write about it. Maybe in a year I could write something. There is something in me maybe someday to be written; now it is folded, and folded, and folded, like a note in school. And in my dream someone was playing
FROM groves of spice,
O’er fields of rice,
Athwart the lotus-stream,
I bring for you,
“Simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and thoughts, you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.”