What magic lies in the errant stone
you tripped over on your daily walk?
It is not so much the stone itself,
as what you see in it:
A cold, hard nuisance?
A creation of the lowliest rank?
Or something to be felt between your fingers,
gliding them across its smooth surface,
as you shiver in delight?
Do you contemplate its jagged edges,
and the igneous pressure it surely endured
to create them?
The magic lies not just in what you see,
in how you see it,
and what that reflects
This mirrored magic is divine,
beauty beheld and beholden.
This magic can give you wings,
if you allow it,
a desire to live
just to feel it,
just to wield it.
Belief mixed with the promise of fulfillment
is a powerful concoction,
offered freely and yet,
so few will stop to sip it.
When they do,
what was once invisible
comes starkly into sight,
what was once silence
manifests into melody,
what was once loved with lip service,
transforms into Love, embodied,
till it shatters all Illusion.
The promise of attaining your deepest wish
was but a ruse.
Indeed, your heart’s desire
has been with you
this whole time.
There is no easing into magic.
You plunge, heart-first, into the ocean,
the home you never knew you had.
You swim and wade and luxuriate.
It is all your soul could ever soak up
Who swirls our world in whimsy?
Layer upon layer of lush imagination,
in our every reverie,
the swelling of ripe and juicy wonder
waking us from unsatisfying slumber,
wordplay and sea spray,
stories sung by mothers,
lovers lost in each other’s
truths so perplexing,
whimsy, a wormhole,
for the King of all crowns,
ninety-nine names and nouns,
as He swishes in sensual circles,
unveiling each mystery,
at just the right time.
We flee to be free,
we wake to forsake
a life steeped in lies,
for a dream that ne’er dies,
a reunion, most blissful,
between you and who?
Between you and Hu.
Between you and Hu.
* Hu means ‘He’, and is a reference to the Beloved, God.
Each moment is longing,
holding my breath to see,
what You have in store for me.
Each moment is pure desire,
hope bubbling up like dew,
discontent clouding the air,
tears like weapons of despair.
Each moment is full
of my ignorance,
my owned yet disowned arrogance
that I must control the narrative.
In truth, each moment is a gift,
a delicious unwrapping, unravelling
of sign after sign after sign,
all perfectly sensual and divine.
The universe erupted
from Your desire to be known,
our lives a series of cycles
of longing to return.
This being waits with quivering impatience,
avoiding hurdle after hurdle to see,
what exactly it is
You have in store for me.
When will she stop resisting
the floods of love meant to break her,
and surrender to the stillness and storms,
seeing only the light that will take her?
Once I experienced the Ultimate High,
my life couldn’t possibly hold the same lure.
I could return to a flavorless existence,
or I could keep coming back for more.
Now, prayer is no longer a chore,
but a love letter in motion,
Your remembrance is never forced,
but a daydream to get lost in.
I want every book I read,
every movie I view,
every conversation I have
to revolve around You.
Surrounded by other lovers,
I gaze deeply into their eyes,
looking for my reflection,
till the early hours of sunrise,
talking about sacred whispers,
transcendent states, lifted veils,
facing our inner demons,
enduring our personal travails.
All else pales in comparison.
One taste of You is so sweet,
so divinely succulent,
one bite and I feel complete.
I keep coming back for more.
What tasteless mire
was I eating before?