The Song of Love

The Song of Love is heard only by Love. It is the loving rhythm of Love for and by Itself. Along with the little-known practice of actually Loving, and inquiry into the true nature of the Lover, such hearing is more potent than any other so-called spiritual discipline, until all such disciplines are recognized as only the play of Love. The blessing sound that Love bestows makes one who is ready immediately open and empty to receive, devoid of any resistance. Love’s real nature is the OneHeart Itself. Only.

The ordinary person wanders dreamily in their head, unaware of their true Home in the Heart. The Lover lives in the Heart. The Lover is Lived by the Heart, awakening to a constant whisper of the Heart to Itself. For the Lover, the true devotee of Love, there is nothing but the joyful movement of the formless Heart into all forms and relationships as Song itself! The Lover has no will. No choice. All such fantasies have been consumed by the lovely fire of Love. In the realm some call “this world”, the Lover knows that what they hear is not separate from the OneHeart in which all arises and dissolves, which they realize in the Heart as their own Self, Singing!

Love hears nothing as greater or lesser, higher or lower, better or worse, more or less desirable. All is only Love to such ears. In the state of Love the Lover hears nothing separate from the Beloved’s voice – radiance divine rippling in every direction for the sheer magnification of Itself in supersensual symphonic wonder.

For the Lover, Love alone IS, and nothing else.

By persisting in communion with Love, the Lover sheds all recoil from Love, until such dry tunes drop away completely, revealing that which Is. In such humility, Love, which is truth, becomes the sacrifice which returns as the Singing Smile, illuminating all that does not recognize Itself as Love. Exquisitely, Beloved presses so urgently down into mortality as a musical Love offering to that which lingers in the forgetfulness of its own true nature. How Happy is the Lover to fall into this slipstream of Loving’s Bright Song, that all may enjoy the delight of Love’s homecoming to Itself, the Self of all, the treasure of the living light of heart-broken surrender to the deepest yearning of being itself! Thanks and praise to the Inextinguishable, this ever-living flame, this HeartSong!

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The Peacock Grove

Beloved Angel of my heart,
how hauntingly the peacocks called
from our nuptial grove at dawn!

How thrilling for our first morning!

We may imagine, even now,
that we can still hear those peacock-
singing sounds, yet it is not so!

Even the most sensitive ear
cannot hear a single note!

How can that be?

There is no one hearing,
there is only the sound —
already gone before it arrives
to caress our ears with its absence.

Listen now, such heartbroken yearning
radiates in the poignancy of those echoing cries –

is any heart so different, is any tiny trill
afloat on the breeze not a soul tune
of bitter-sweet benediction?

All memories themselves are now rendered
superfluous in the pure peacock pleasure
of this omnipresent music, this rhapsody
of melting heart notes, twined in tonality’s
resonant thrill, echoing into forgetfulness,
drifting prayers on spring dawn winds.

I see you standing in the doorway,
sorrowless, stainless, serene in your loving,
and I am gently falling into your eyes, undone
in your presence, the presence of my own heart
that took the form of you, the eyes of you, your smile.

At this moment I hear nothing, the silence
is immense, a sheer block of immensity
that is appearing as you and me
and everything, everything.

From the centerless core of this silence
a peacock suddenly calls out to its mate,
and then my tears flood out at your feet,
and now you are smiling, reaching out,
embracing me, and this soft embrace
had no beginning in time, nor will it
ever end, my Love, nor will it
ever end.

peacocks_place

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The Secret Door

Some say we only wake to grieve,
yet even in the land of sleep
I mourned for what I never knew:

through all those restless dreams,
my Love, I never ceased my yearning
for the waking touch of you.

I wandered foreign boulevards
bereft of destination; one place
little different than the next,
all steeped in desperation.

I followed every rumor,
every tale that tellers told,
but for all my earnest efforts
I was left out in the cold.

There is a secret door to love
unknown by everyone but you –
you didn’t even need a key, you
smiled and walked right through.

The secret door you passed through
rendered all my seeking obsolete –

a sudden weakness in the knees,
quick tears, and then I’m
falling at your feet.

The search at last had ended,
each precious moment now is new,
as I walk on through this waking life,
waking heart to heart with you.

 

Penguins_holding_hands_sm

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You In Me

me in you

Eventually, without any noticing,
even the canvas is forgotten,
and all is still.

Now there is only
this gentle falling out of balance
against a background of Perfect Balance.

It is as if you sit within me, knowing exactly
what comes and goes, appears and disappears.

I knew You are the One long before I saw You;
I sensed You with my whole being.

Then You enter into this realm of time and space
at a moment so specific that it had to be planned —
the timing so precise — the moment
that I saw myself in You.

It is not words we speak;
it’s the purity of Heart’s Knowledge,
not knowing — yet Knowing.

I have been everywhere with You.
I Know of every experience.

In every thought and every action,
I am there.

It is not about reading minds, but seeing
the truth in every word not spoken,
every word not written.

In the Place of all Places
we have sat together as OneHeart.

As a child I stared into the stars
and could feel the watching,
yet it was always from within.

It was not a Universe looking back at me,
it was my own self looking at me.

Oh I tried to hide, to run, to find shelter
from this restlessness, but there is nowhere
to go when You are everywhere.

Now I have stopped running
and I sit with everything everywhere.

There You are
as You have always been,
sitting serenely within me.

Shining.

Radiant.

Happy.

escher_union

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Smiling Faces

Shapes shift, light and shadows alternate,
facades appear and disappear as Love
plays the masquerade of hearts
and souls, lips and fingers,
forms and faces.

From Her oceanic depths
a flowing dream of waves arises
in Love’s disguises born of water.

Still, as bedazzling as Love’s masks
may be, we won’t stop at any
liquid image – we’ll go
further.

When our desire becomes as urgent
as that of a drowning man gasping
for air, we will become available
for Love’s true revelation, which
is not at all what any might
imagine, believe, hope,
or even fear.

Until then, Love will mostly be
an empty word for those still deaf
to the transmission beaming from the depths
of their own Heart’s furthest yearning.

Most who come this way stop
at the Image, worshiping an Icon,
carved by conditions, sanded by time,
polished by devotion to a yet tyrant mind.

All the while, Love’s arrow buries itself
deeper, burrowing further, until at last,
in the abundance of graces, Love
looks up and recognizes Itself
here in our smiling faces!

Just so, my Pearl, tonight
let’s get fetal with each other;

let’s curl up in that wooing
womb of emptiness,

wound together in this
wild wonder of our loving,

afloat in the warm amniotic fluids
of Love’s supremely cuddly satisfaction,

dizzy in the exquisite vernal perfume
of our unborn bliss, the simplicity
of the blessed revelation
that you and I are
This,

our dharma of desire flowering into gently
letting go of what’s already gone, gone beyond
any letting go of whatever really never was,
just rolling in the gone-ness of non-getting,
grasping for nothing, clinging to same,

just smiling that smile we smile
when you see me, I see you,
and only Love is Seeing,
being Seen, loving . . .

See — Love is
the Midwife of our Delight,
attending this Mystery of innocent Light!

Yes, this ever-new Love
is the cause and result of Love,
Mother of the radiant Children of Love,
the conception, womb, and labor of Love,

and there is nothing
in the beautiful Body of Love
that is not the perfect expression of Love.

All form is but the dress of Love,
the wondrous random design of Love,
though seeking it only postpones true Love.

When we die to that search
we arise in Love;

when we empty ourselves
we are filled by Love!

All glory, praise,
and thanks to Love –

this is our song
and it’s sung
by Love!

 

clouds-love-sky-heart-blue-sky-nature

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Open Mouth Point

Blown out in the breath
of Your rapture, I fall with You
into a stream of joyous smithereens,
swept under in the luna wave trance
of this night’s amazing revelation —

a conspiracy of stars, of hearts’
delight, the doom of all that would
resist the death that grants eternity.

In You all mirrors are shattered.

All visions, reflections, are outshone
in the immediacy of Your warm proximity,
as our lights mingle in the movement of Love’s
own perfect urgency to magnify itself, to shine!

Taffy-spun lovers, You and I, spoon-stirred
by the sticky hands of Love — sweet blend
of complementary light, a plasticity of
desire — wind around the zero of our
empty fullness, rousing oohs and
ahhhs from our kissed lips.

Tonight I will remember myself
by forgetting myself
in You.

I remembered
Your Enduring Smile
before I met You, and so
I met You, my own Love,
smiling right before me in the
form of You — my prayer rising,
my God so graciously descending.

This Divine Love,
smiling, welcoming me
back to myself, alive in the Light
of You, alive in this Touch of You,
reminds me, as if I could have ever really
forgotten, that we have never been so alive,
so alive, as in this moment now — not a place
in time, not a dream of reunion, not a play
of energy, atoms, or even anything
that we could say, feel, or think.

Standing before Her candy shop
window, along the carnival boardwalk
of the endlessly spinning ride, we pause
at open mouth point, struck speechless
in the dizzy ecstasy of our mindless
happiness, as a sudden flood
of Heart sings out in this
electric moment:

“I Love You”

NFP 1

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Mazie Smile

I have learned to bear the reflection
of myself in your eyes, for in them
I see my own self disappear.

What remains of me is
what is true of me – love —
and in this way I love you,
for nothing else is true but love.

Your reflection,
the solar smile of only love,
appears in time to consume itself
in the blaze of its own radiance,
and thus we are the kindling
of love’s bonfire, heat,
and shine.

We do not resist this.
We are this.

Love.

What else can we do?

We are the love
in each other’s eyes,
and so we are what sees.

What looks out looks in,
it’s the way it’s always been.

I see your love,
in the same way you see me.

I say love, and yet
it cannot really be said.

It is not a sound,
not even a fragrance.

It is not a view.

If you say, “a smile”,
this much may be true,
true enough for Kashyapa who,
watching Buddha lift a flower,
couldn’t stop smiling too!

Mazie Solar Smile

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