This is how I would die into the love
I have for you:
as pieces of cloud dissolve in sunlight.
There are no edges to my loving now.
You’ve heard it said there’s a window
that opens from one mind to another,
but if there’s no wall,
there’s no need for fitting
the window, or the latch.
He has said,
‘The images that come with human language
do not correspond to me,
but those who love words must use them to come near.’
Just remember this, it’s like saying of the kind,
‘He is not a weaver.’ Is that praise?
Whatever such a statement is,
words are on that level of God-knowing.
A pearl in the shell does not touch the ocean.
Be a pearl without a shell,
a mindful flooding, candle turned moth,
head become empty jar,
bird settling nest, love lived.
I hear nothing in my ear but your voice.
Heart has plundered mind of all its eloquence.
Love writes a transparent calligraphy,
so on the empty page my soul can read and recollect.
If I had a hundred mouths
I would sing choral praise,
but I have just this solo tongue,
which is timid and confused
with the energy waiting to come through…
I walk awkwardly
but the smoke goes straight up.