For Us This Day

My soul keeps whispering, Quickly,

be a wandering dervish,

a salamander sitting in its homefire.

Walk about watching the burning

turn to roses. As this love-secret

we are both blasphemy and the core of Islam.

Do not wait. The open plain is better

than any closing door. Ravens love ruins

and cemetery trees. They cannot help but fly there.

But for us this day is friends sitting together

with silence shining in our faces.

Dance

La danse, Henri Matisse

Dance, when you're broken open.

Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.

Dance in the middle of the fighting.

Dance in your blood.

Dance, when you are perfectly free.

The Origin of the World

Human beings seem to derive

from this planet, but essentially

we are the origin of the world.

A tiny gnat's outward form

flies about in pain and wanting,

while the gnat's inward nature

includes the entire galactic

whirling of the universe.

No Better Love

Andromeda, Eugene Delacroix

No better love than love with no object.

No more satisfying work

than work with no purpose.

If you could give up tricks and cleverness,

that would be the cleverist trick.

Hunt Music

Musk and amber remind us

of the air at sunrise,

when any small motion feels part

of some elaborate making.

The body's harp gets handed

to the soul to play.

The strings: rage, jealousy,

all the wantings mix their energy-music.

Who tuned this instrument?

Where wind is a string

and also Shams' eyes

reflecting a gazelle as it turns

to stalk the hunting lioness.

Something Opens Our Wings

Something opens our wings. Something

makes boredom and hurt disappear.

Someone fills the cup in front of us.

We taste only sacredness.

The Generations I Praise

Yesterday the beauty of early dawn

came over me, and I wondered

who my heart would reach toward.

Then this morning again

and you. Who am I?

Wind and fire and watery ground

move me mightily because they are pregnant

with God. These are the early morning 

generations I praise.