When Living Itself

If the beloved is everywhere,

the lover is a veil, 

but when living itself becomes

the Friend, lovers disappear.

The Question (2)

You should wish to have a hundred thousand sets

of mothwings, so you could burn them away, one set a night.

The moth sees light and goes into fire. You should see fire

and go to the light. Fire is what of God is world-consuming.

Water, world-protecting.

Somehow each gives the appearance of the other.

To these eyes you have now, what looks like water burns.

What looks like fire is a great relief to be inside.

You have seen a magician make a bowl of rice

seem a dish of tiny, live worms. Before an assembly, with one

breath he made the floor swarm with scropions

that were not there. How much more amazing God's tricks.

Generation after generation lies down defeated, they think,

but they are like a woman underneath a man, circling him.

One molecule-mote-second of considering

this reversal of comfort and pain

is better than any attending ritual.

That splinter of intelligence is substance.

The fire and water themselves?

Accidental, done with mirrors.

The Question (1)

One dervish to another, What was your vision

of God's presence? I haven't seen anything,

but for the sake of conversation, I will tell you a story.

The presence is there in front of me.

A fire on the left, a lovely stream on the right.

One group walks toward the fire, into the fire.

Another toward the sweet flowing water.

No one knows which are blessed and which not.

Whoever walks into the fire appears suddenly

in the stream. A head goes underwater

and that head pokes out of the fire.

Most people guard against going into the fire

and so end up in it. Those who love the water

of pleasure and make it their devotion

are cheated with this reversal. The trickery goes further.

The voice of the fire tells the truth, saying

I am not fire. I am fountainhead.

Come into me and don't mind the sparks.

If you are a friend of the presence,

fire is your water.

The Sight of a Soul

One of the marvels of the world

is the sight of a soul sitting in prison

with the key in its hand.

Covered with dust,

with a cleansing waterfall an inch away.

A young man rolls from side to side,

though the bed is comfortable

and a pillow holds his head.

He has a living master, yet he wants more,

and there is more.

If a prisoner had not lived outside,

he would not detest the dungeon.

Desiring knows there is a satisfaction

beyond this. Straying maps the path.

A secret freedom opens

through a crevice you can barely see.

The awareness a wine drinker wants

cannot be tasted in wine, but that failure

brings his deep thirst closer.

The Well

We seem to be sitting still,

but we are actually moving,

and the fantasies of phenomena

are sliding through us,

like ideas through curtains.

They go to the well of deep love

inside each of us.

They fill their jars there

and they leave.

There is a source they come from,

and a fountain inside here.

Be generous and grateful.

Confess when you're not.

We cannot know

what the divine intelligence has in mind.

Who am I,

standing in the midst of this

thought-traffic?

The Way That Moves as You Move

Some commentary on the quatrain:

As you start on the way, the way appears.

When you cease to be, real being comes.

This is how you slip through

to your non-spatial home.

Think of how you came into this world.

Can you explain how that was? No? The same way

that you came is the way you will leave.

You wander landscapes in your dreams.

How did you get there? Close your eyes and surrender,

and find yourself in the city of God.

But you are still looking for admiration.

You love how your customers look at you.

You love to sit at the head of the assembly.

You close your eyes and see people applauding,

as surely as an owl shuts and sees the forest.

You live in an admiration-world,

but what do you offer your admirers?

If you had true spirit-gifts to give,

you would not think of customers.

Night Prayer

Now I lay me down

to stay awake.

Pray the Lord my soul to take

into your wakefulness,

so that I can get this one bit

of wisdom clear.

Grace comes to forgive

and then forgive again.