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zero circle…

Be helpless, dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
To gather us up.

We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty
If we say we can, we’re lying.
If we say No, we don’t see it,
That No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.

So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Besides ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.

— Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi —

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we are everything in between…

we are everything in between
Your hands are wonderful, especially when their holding brings forth such
honeysuckle… sucking… goodness.

That I might be muse for such outpourings baffles me.
The certainty that I might be something more than less still eludes me
like insights newly born and swaddled in words still half-formed.

That you might allow me as witness to speak on our behalf, here
illuminates my shortcomings
as scribe to all that is profound and simple.

(There, I see it: your back swathed in silence.)

We are never more than what the other decides
and yet, we remain always as whispers,
as Pleasure that cannot keep a secret for long
and so, we are compelled.

In this mystery, I see you.
In this, we are met.
And so, are we lost.