Lingering within my course vein, the shuddering toward a greater outpouring of love.
Towards your delicate feet, where salvation lies for
I. awaken every night with haunting memories of my heart up in the sky.
I started barefoot from the beaches at dusk; A great shooting star blazed, its light invincible like the hearts of those lovers, all who meet at the horizon of the endless seas each and every sunset. Hands held together they merge within, just like the sun merging with the seas. Swallowed towards one.
The separation created to pain; The pain so real. The real so hurting, every waking moment and twice fold in dreams. Every part of lovers pore yearn, yearns like a thundering shuddering stormy night, waiting silently in patience for the right moment. A moment for a divine outpouring of rain, of love.
Every night I walk along the shores of these violent seas. The waves step up and drown me. I sink to the bottom every night. Staying there; sitting in silence waiting for my
Tara. The guiding light. The light which never fades.
Every morning my body rises from the depths helped and caressed by the waves as my soul comes down from ambrosial planes. Uniting and waiting and uniting and waiting with One.
Years and decades lose meaning, sun he rises and drowns. The winds pour and let go. The moon shades and guides.
Lets the shadow grow and the body decay.
Vines creep onto the mind in bondage away from the heart. Absent of love.
Freedom; a new birth every new moment. The moment when the heart of a dying soul is quenched with life.
The outpouring is spontaneous, where there is love, sensual or devoid. Spiritual and free of attachments. Growing without reason or a constraint of time. This is the love in the hearts of two who are one. The love in the heart of the seeker for the soul. The love in the heart of an eagle for flight. Its nature. It’s the nature of one.
I cough up the water from my lungs and the barnacles off my skin. The sun shines from within my mind. I can see the darkness receding. Enlightenment every morning and ah ! every night!
An albatross spots these bones on the wire. Swoops down and blocks the walking path for me. Looks intently then gets bored. Is he or she? In a want to communicate? To speak. To meditate on one? The lips open, and a half eaten bird comes out and falls in front of me. Unlearn the albatross croaks. Undo he whispers. UnKnow and UnBe. Linear you are not bones on the shingle.. You are formless and action less. You are the moment , the experience and the perceiver in one. Of one.
All of what is , is love, is love , is love. I S L O V E