Before Being was I am
Before Being was I am. Right there in mystery beyond the words expanse, emptiness, unborn, Buddha ……. And, right now, before mind confirms its superstition of self -I am not. Missing from form feeling perception consciousness formation, unfound in being or beyond…… and yet this dream, this scattering of Love’s alphabet animates the flesh, turns the vectors of red and blue to tenderness and remembering ……. and so, beyond 'Am' and 'Am Not', we are
this net of dreaming, tenderness of light’s small cathedrals,
congregation of syllables,
temple of nerve blood bone and
joy soaked with the terrible cost of love.
What, or who, could have whispered into twilight such treachery -
the notion of the ‘lost companion’. The lie that shapes the Heart’s
Sand, wet with morning dew, slides under my foot. The grass, now
becoming straw in the first autumn coolness, brushes against pant
leg. I remember your face. Dawn light scatters, swims through the
sky the scent of moss opens doorways of wonderment and
the lie of forgetting is forgotten.
These ties, the handcuffs of tender affection, dream us me you world
into through as appearing.
This congregation of beauty
and your eyes are reason enough.