Monday, September 15, 2014
We are dying to live, to really live. Let us not wait any longer. Let us do whatever it takes. There are not higher stakes...
There’s a heart-aching so sharp,
so sweet and
so bottomless, that both shatters and reassembles us.
Such terrible beauty accompanies it, such fathomless yearning, and such exquisitely painful gratitude. Endless is this beauty. Upon its shores we break and spill, emptied of the familiarity that self-centres our days and ways.
So very soon we are gone, like dreams vanishing before morning’s habits.
Did we leave a mark?
Only wing prints in endless sky, tracing evaporating goodbyes.
Tombstones soon but stardust.
Life is our signature, scrawled by the infinitely varied shape-takings of the Real.
Such raw beauty,
beauty to die for,
beauty both to bow to and to be,
beauty that simultaneously outlives and is us.
Death makes Life worth living.
Death makes beauty unspeakably obvious.
Death makes love not to be exceeded important.
Death wakes us up. What better ally could we have than Death?
Death gives all the same opportunity.
Death leaves no one out.
Life is, among other things, a Near-Death Experience.
The passing of all things breaks our heart open to what matters most of all.
Only through intimacy with Death do we find intimacy with the Deathless.
Gazing into soft blue sky,
dissolving in its boundless embrace,
cradling each of its clouds,
whether weeping or thundering or dancing.
Beauty beyond beauty coupling with undisturbed peace,
through their succulent embrace revealing
not explaining, but revealing
that each moment contains all moments.
These deep lovers cannot help but recognize, as they die into Joy, surrendering their all to the Beloved until they are but clearings for that One.
Naked openness, owned by none and belonging to all.
Silence is our witness.
Silence has seen it all.
Silence cradles our pain until its ache wakes us.
Let go, let of your heart break,
let of your life, be beauty made visible,
let all things awaken you,
let your life be Poetry,
the music of Truth,
the epiphanies idiosyncratic soul song of significance.
And all the words die so, so soon in an avalanche of Silence, their sound and meaning and audience gone. But how they danced in their bright sliver of a moment!
And how we danced and loved and wept and blazed in our brief time!
The door is, as always, already open.
Openness awaiting openness.
The invitation that will not go away.
We are dying to live.
Let us not wait any longer.
Let us do what it takes.
There are not higher stakes.
ENDLESS IS THIS BEAUTY