The Wine of Her Presence

I know nothing of an afterlife,
But am not concerned,
For I am so Intoxicated, Here, Now,
On the Wine of Her Presence,
That time has become,
Tomorrow has become,
A ghostly apparition.

The mind cannot move,
Its gazed fixed,
On the Lovely One.

I know nothing of God,
But am not concerned,
For I am so Intoxicated, Here, Now,
On the Wine of Her Presence,
That the hierarchy of flesh and spirit,
Human and God, profane and holy,
Has lost all meaning.

The Heart is breathless,
Still… but Shaking with the Ecstasy,
Of the Lovely One.

I know nothing of Heaven,
But am not concerned,
For I am so Intoxicated, Here, Now,
On the Wine of Her Presence,
That the mind is tongue-tied,
Muted in such considerations,
By the Beauty of Her Eyes.

If Heaven is Fullness,
Completion, and Bliss,
Then it is Here, Now.

I am not “perfected”,
But am not concerned,
For I am so Intoxicated, Here, Now,
On the Wine of Her Presence,
Wounded and broken as I am,
That I can no longer wonder,
That Love is Causeless.

Before the terrible dualities,
Of perfection and imperfection,
She Is… I Am.

I know nothing of “enlightenment”,
But I am not concerned,
For I am so Intoxicated, Here, Now,
On the Wine of Her Presence,
That the desire for “more” has vanished,
All movement “to and from” ceased,
As I Sink, Drowning, in… and as…

The Wine of Her Presence.