Sutra.

I’ll make myself
A lover
To become love,
Rumi’s child.
Tongue’s dripping honey,
Fingers trace
Along life’s surface
Leaving marks
Of the divine.
I’ll call forth
Through time,
To become love;
Through dimensions,
O’er the void,
Beyond Oneness,
Into the Contraction!
I’ll meet your
Gaze
Anew on the other side!
Life always returns
To me what’s mine!
I’ll write myself
Poetry
To become love;
Sacred with treacle,
Manna,
Ambrosia,
Eucharist,
Ghee.
We’ll dine together
And time will evaporate
As we lose ourselves
In one another’s eyes.
I’ll be gentle
With compassion
To become love,
Downy layers
Of warm winter quilts.
Soothing baths
In oatmeal and honey.
Sunday afternoon laundry,
YouTube and vibe.
I’ll appreciate deeply
To become love.
I’ll sit
With your stillness
Or anger
Or pain.
I’ll hold space for your
Greatness;
I’ll hold space for
Your flaws.
I’ll notice each feature
Each wrinkle
Each line.
I’ll memorize your energy.
I’ll memorize your body.
I’ll unravel your mind.
I’ll notice it all
And keep looking until
It’s seen fully
And deeply
And understood
Completely.
I’ll inquire more
To be love.
I’ll ask every question
Every time.
I’ll ask myself what
There is to ask.
What would I ask
If you broke my heart;
What would I ask
If I hated you?
What would I ask out
Of anger
What would I ask
Out of pain?
Because love blinds me
So completely
There’s nothing
To ask!
But I’ll love you
Divinely
I’ll show you I care
And ask
Everything
Every time!

speak.

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