Image: Created by Grok inspired by “Song of Silence“
Song of Silence
Your silence has begun to sing to me again in the voice of my old poem, “To Love Pain”: “I can lose You again and again / And my heart will beat back stronger / As it is lashed by the whip of Your absence.”
I did not recognize You in April: I mistook You for a young lover come to swim in my eyes, touch my lips, and part the warm sea flesh that opens for lovers. And I slid down and down into that primal ooze that has kept me hide-bound.
But now that You have hidden that body of mud and have silenced his voice that lured my lust, I see Your body of light dancing on rivers of words meandering through my soul. I hear Your astral singing in every silver syllable of pure vibration.
O Divine Singer, I come to You alone to sing my song and to devote every last ounce of flesh and bone.
Image: Created by Grok inspired by “On the Brim of the Day“
On the Brim of the Day
This day I drink in the possibility of warmth— Sending a letter to the snow, kissing the nose of the pup, Eating honey in divine rain, singing with the bird. I was ashamed and hid myself until this blood had cooled— Then petals fell from these eyes, and I saw his face again. Now on the brim of this new day I grow on the morning Like the sun climbing the sky.
And I will sail across sunset Like the cloud hiding his eye. I will yoke myself to my faith And climb again Like the moon saddling the earth, Riding like the horseman against the sea.
Because my mother bore me, I navigate this salt sea that pulsates under my skin, this blood sea the moon urges. In the push and flow, I still my eyeballs and listen to the ocean in my ears,
but I can never find the boundary they call skin. I never know where I should end and you might begin: I feel you are a wave and I am the sand. Or you are a long strand of kelp and I am the forest.
Maybe you are a school of fish and I am the food they toss from the glass-bottom boat. Maybe I am a crab and you are a gull,
though I suspect you’re a shark—
but you’re probably just a slippery dolphin whose language I wish I could learn.
Image: Created by Grok inspired by “River of Soul Love“
River of Soul Love
A saint hears her soul singing silence deep. She listens and lusts no more for a man. She hands her Divine Friend her heart to keep.
She sings glad hymns His Sacred love to reap— Her heart rises above its human span. A saint hears her soul singing silence deep.
Her eyes of devotion no longer weep— She needs no mortal to complete her plan. She hands her Divine Friend her heart to keep.
Her blood flames cool with the vow she does keep. None can end what her Holy Friend began— A saint hears her soul singing silence deep.
The river of soul love flows then to sweep From her body all debris now to ban. She hands her Divine Friend her heart to keep.
She rests in silence—is blissful in sleep. She races and beats every clock that ran: A saint hears her soul singing silence deep. She hands her Divine Friend her heart to keep.
Image: Created by ChatGPT inspired by “A Raindrop in the Palm“
A Raindrop in the Palm
for Brother Achalananda
Before you became my polestar, I was diverted by the one who boasts Deep fish and salt-crusted waves. The one who puffs our pride that all rivers Rush to embrace his power.
I listened to the moist murmur Of his promises of exoticisms, As I sat close beside him on the beaches Of Encinitas, Pensacola, and Virginia.
Oh! I stood dumbfounded at how big his waters were— Without an inkling of your infinite vastness, I could never have guessed That he is much less than a raindrop In the palm of your hand.
Image: Sesshu Style Painting – Enhanced by Grok (see below)
A Quiet Security
I wish I could feel peace as a warm glow In the brain— Fears falling away Leaving no scars— A quiet security that my soul is blessed.
I wish I could feel gentle pulse-beats— Reminders of the Lord’s knocking At the door of my heart— Fears falling away Leaving no scars— A quiet security that my soul is blessed.
I wish I could fill my life with self-realized people— People who are souls wearing bodies. People whose fears have fallen away Leaving no scars— A quiet security that their souls are blessed.
My fleeting dreams do float through dark waters. Mortal visions melt into deep silence. My mind then cowers from earthly slaughters. My heart beats hard in fearing violence.
Still, I wander from dream to starless dream. I undergo birth and then death again. My journey moves on through a storm-tossed stream— I face meaningless bouts of grief and pain.
Yet my soul rests beneath Thy sacred wing. Thy mercy shelters me from constant fright. Thou bring’st me peace no fleeting dream can bring. My soul grows bright in Thy flame of pure light.
Thou dost guard my life on this stormy sea. Thou dost keep my soul forever with Thee.
Image: Created by ChatGPT, inspired by “Ready for Morning”
Ready for Morning
He stayed gently by me. Wrapped me in his lush, dark arms. Soothed my bones when they grew restless. Brought me cool water when my head fevered, When my tongue parched. He whispered soft, sweet love, Chased away intruders who would turn me out of bed. And now I am ready for morning— Night was a good lover. He kissed away my sighs. Played between my lips, between my breasts. Worked all my instruments of lust. Entered the orchard of desire And plucked my fresh love fruit. His body-less body was A clean dome of skin-less skin. And I am ready for morning Because night was such a good lover, Loving me all over my dreamless sleepless sleep.
The things of mortal world are mere symbols Whose meaning shines clear standing near The Divine Creator’s love for souls.
They hint at divine essence in syllables. Their sacred beginning becomes clear— The things of mortal world are mere symbols.
Some thoughts seem harmful, others good as gold. Angel care enjoys and dark devils fear The Divine Creator’s love for souls.
Seeing with wakened eye, I take on new roles, Moving in divine realms, unafraid, sincere— The things of mortal world are mere symbols.
Divine Belovèd rings the bell that tolls Calling my heart to repeat my new prayer Of the Divine Creator’s love for souls.
Striving to achieve all my worthy goals, I study all letters’ symbolic fare— The things of mortal world are mere symbols Of the Divine Creator’s love for souls.
the things of this world hold so, but if i think of them all as symbols of my divine beloved’s love, they loosen their choke-hold, they whisper that a sacred essence is their source, a sacred essence permeates them, how could they not?
getting used to sacredness, purity, divinity, mystic health—just getting used to it is the challenge, because for years i have thought of things as harmful or helpful, mostly harmful, good or bad, mostly bad how could i not?
i want to experience the source of all things, the one whom i have named my divine beloved— love is everything, love is the reason for everything i do that i really want to do, love is the reason for being everything i am being, i am being for love, for my divine beloved, god is my divine beloved, and all the things of this world are symbols of his divine love.
