Swooping in on the altar,
my body shifting between shaking to the alternating beats
and just bee-ing, I home in on a book,
laid flat on its spine, open wide,
its vulnerable, white pages bent at the ears,
I sense a passage
a song lilting up from centuries ago
from my truest beeloved
who twirled like a dervish
and spun like a spider
weaving his vibrant web of LOVE,
Rumi said ...
The Seed Market
Where
can you find another market like this?
Where
for one seed
you get a whole wilderness?
for one weak breath,
the divine wind?
You've been fearful
of being absorbed in the ground
or drawn up by the air.
Now, your waterbed let's go
and drops into the ocean where it came from.
It no longer has the form it had,
but it's still water.
The essence is the same.
This giving up is not a repenting.
It's a deep honoring of yourself.
When the ocean comes to you as a lover,
marry, at once, quickly, for God's sake.
Don't postpone it!
Existence has no better gift.
No amount of searching will find this.
A perfect falcon, for no reason, has landed on your shoulder
and become yours.
