An Old Couple

It would seem I am no longer “spiritual”,
No longer reading endless volumes,
No longer hearing again and again,
No longer chatting ceaselessly about,
No longer running here and there.

What has become of me?

It would seem I've quit the whole affair,
For like my breath, my heartbeat,
I no longer see Her as “spiritual”,
For She has become, in these many years,
Inherent in the Experience of Existing…

Like wetness to water, heat to fire.

The mind seldom moves, anymore,
To the Tavern of The Beloved,
To watch, starry-eyed, as She pours,
Vanishing as The Wine,
Remaining as The Wine…

For the Tavern is Here.

The heart seldom journeys, anymore,
To the Garden of The Beloved,
To breathe Her Fragrance,
Vanishing as The Flower,
Remaining as The Flower…

For the Garden is Here.

The mind journeys to the Tavern,
The Heart to The Garden,
Only when sitting with a friend,
In the Loving Hope,
That Flame will ignite Ember…

Or… in Celebration and Gratitude,
Of the Flame already Shining there,
In a Heart Radiant, Illumined,
With the Light of Heaven's Grace,
The Fulfillment of the Heart's Desire.

All fear long since vanished,
Of Her coming and going,
All movement long since ceased,
To grasp and hold Her,
For She has proven Herself…

Ever… Here.

In the world of space,
No distance separates us,
For She Is,
Before here and there ever were.

In the world of time,
No duration separates us,
For She Is,
Before now and then ever were.

In the world of objects,
No duality separates us,
For She Is,
Before this and that ever were.

These days, like an old couple,
We seldom speak,
Words long since abandoned,
To express what cannot be spoken,
Fullness… Completion… Bliss…

In breath… in heartbeat… in existence.

Only occasionally,
For the sheer Joy of Expression,
As a Delight in duality's Dance,
Will I utter the words,
So Beautifully Futile…

I Love You.