I sat long enough in fire.
Now I am up to my neck
in the water of union.
You say, Up to the neck
is not enough.
Make your head your foot
and descend into love.
There is no up-to-the-neck union.
I say, But for the sake of your garden
I sat up to my neck in blood.
You say, Yes, you escaped
the alluring world, but not yourself.
You are the magician
caught in his own trickery.
Cut the breath of self and be silent.
Language cannot come from your throat
as you choke and go under.
