to me You have no form, though i love the forms ascribed to You. You are essence, presence, numinous energy signature. You are within me as i move in the vast ocean of You. You signal to me through clouds & i reply in semaphore. my whole life is a semaphore, an action-adventure play designed to get Your attention, to call You to see my need. i tire of action & searching & i turn within to rest. so it is that in the calm of this silence, You come to me. You come. You come like the breeze, like dew at dawn, like the stars emerging out of nothingness into somethingness, calling out my name. You wrap around me as if skin, & i breathe You like the air until i grow bright as the crescent moon shining in Your hair, placed in the darkness of Your hair, no longer able to speak, silently rejoicing in You who are hidden in all forms. You are essence & presence, evoking deep recognition. You call Your own & i respond, fighting through forgetfulness. i continually move forward, slowly & steadily. Your energy is my primal imprint, marking me for You. i am Your agent of transformation coming home to You.
Shiva, i am here to talk to You & to stay focussed on Your wavelength rather than to drift within the drama which i see dancing around me. i see the cracking everywhere, the evidence of a dying age. even beyond the human ferment i register the shifting aeons, the mysterious powers that ebb & flow in the wild daily display. Shiva, i am here to talk to You & to stay focussed on Your wavelength, to look for Your hidden loving touch of presence, expressing tenderly, rather than to fashion socially accepted scripts, repeating daily. i come, appearing as this body-personality, offering it all. i come to You raw, unfinished & coming apart, yet yearning for You. This is the record of my sadhana, which gifts You with my total sum.
You taught me earlier to be serious, focussed, deeply thinking. then, at that time, it served me well. now You teach me quirky playfulness, which has great value in this nursing home where laughter is less common. i am Your student of silliness, practicing my funny faces in the mirror & with the friend You bless me with on the internet. toilet paper -- thin, crisp & flimsy -- provides a lesson in humor, fluttering into angular shapes at the touch of a reaching hand. it perversely creases & crimps & pleats & twists, corkscrewing into weirdly angular lengths, dancing gently in the drafty room. You show me that the elemental entities of the air frolic in the folds of the tissue, delighting in its insubstantiality. i can almost hear them now, laughing like rowdy children running wild without any supervision inside the playground of the bathroom. You teach me that i do not need to take life so seriously. the crisp & kinky toilet paper was once an irritation & now i smile at the antics of those frisky little beings playing. i delight in their comedy act & they like my silly faces.
what could i possibly write about, think about or do that is not in reality done by You, Lord Shiva? there is nothing else but You, my Lord. all my words are but clouds in the vast sky of You, drifting in the wind of You. out of the light in the eyes of strangers, You can emerge like swift invisible fireworks that light up my shy heart, linking me with You in powerful silent explosion. how can i forget You who dazzle with Your effulgence? the plot of this human story, like walls, encloses me. enforcers on the rooftops of my mind shoot down upon freedom fighters determinedly smuggling contraband thoughts, yet i press forward with them anyway, dodging sniper fire. a fierce joke is this maya, long skirts hiding combat boots! i am laughing & crying, as i also stand apart, while gazing upon this lovely mesmerizing drama, wild compassion overflowing the floodgates of my heart. there is nothing else but You, Shiva. all my words are but clouds in the vast sky of You, drifting in the wind of You.