your warm dark eyes

i look into your warm dark eyes, my friend & family in Shiva,
as you sing that sincere hindustani classical music. it flows
out of you like clear streams & tides of pure water & light, nourishing
the dry parched & neglected emotions. you bring new life to ancient
words & you establish a pathway to the heart, which shivers gladly
in response. i focus upon you. i gaze so deeply into your
wise knowing eyes that the Self–the atman in me–touches the atman
in you, & everything else just falls away, recedes into nothing.
i gaze in awe at you, into you, so profoundly that i softly
merge with you in a tender burst of happiness down in the heart's depth.

you seem to feel it also, for you nod & smile & the joyfulness
seems to roll off you like reflected sunlight. it rolls right into my
heart. a sweet flow of grace happens spontaneously between our hearts.
it is ageless & wordless & it underlies the smooth recurring
rhythms of your song. the sound of your singing timelessly enfolds us
both: you in india & me here in america. yet there is
no space at all between us now. you are right here with me, directly
registered in the heart, through the eyes, & through the effulgence of love.

i do not belong to myself any more. i never did. clearly,
destiny has claimed me now for its own mysterious purposes.

the birds of the night

internet image
i am a friend to the birds of the night who emerge out of
the liminal spaces where light & dark meet & dance & blend.
we call out our wild joy to the moon & stars who now come forth
from their seclusion to shine soft subtle light into hidden
realms of moving misty forms, shifting through beckoning shades of
visibility. i am called beyond my borders by them,
enticed by these swirling shapes that glide, turn & recede from me
with the flowing meandering moves of those from somewhere else.

Shiva, lord of darkness & light, You are also truly lord
of us liminal people, drawn like moths to Your fiery love.
we sing with the birds of the holy night: the owls, whippoorwills
& chuck-will's-widows. like the drunkards brash midnight serenade,
we are loud & we won't stop our eager full-throated calling,
our powerful celebration of this transitional time.

i am a friend to the birds of the night who emerge out of
the liminal spaces to proclaim our heart's vision to You,
who wear the moon in Your hair & like to hear our songs: Shiva!
the banner of Your love flies for all outsiders such as we.