Brick of Possibilities

Religion reminds one of a brick.
You take a fine, sturdy, dumb brick.
Paint it in your best hand, make that
Christ or Cross, Krishna or Kabir,
inscribe the entire Qur'an or Torah there,
or Siri Guru Granth Sahib of the Sikhs –
literally, it's all been done.

And it's still a brick, but what a brick!
If you paint on it that which binds you
with your most sincerely cherished Love,
then please do it, I'll weave garlands with you
and we'll place them there together.

Knowing that a brick is a brick,
we'll contemplate together and open our hearts
to what's creatively imaged into that brick;
knowing that as what was painted came from within,
so is the very Love and Source being depicted –
and the intimate Knowledge of That – entirely within,
to be merely, albeit strongly, reminded, directed there again.

But shall this be the brick of Cain or of Cathedral?
The brick of Egypt or of the Bridge which bonds us
in mutual sovereignty?

If it's to whack another in the chops or break windows
or be more bric-à-brac to keep you off-track –
then we have a problem, then a brick really is just a brick.

Let each have their brick most suitable or exchange them –
you can't exchange the Self anyway, there is only one of That.
Yes, a brick's a brick – but oh, what a fine looking brick indeed!

Bhajan, Kirtan – Goes On And On

When I sing Ram my heart
is opened, stilled and active both,
emboldened and awash in joy;
from the root of my spine to my crown

I am home, at home in this Body,
as if in a Temple full of powerful tones,
overtones and undertones, harmonies
which can really hardly be described.

When I sing Krishna I am
out of my skull with an ecstasy
curing ills, and maintaining health, longevity;
I need no radio, MTV, CDs or company,

I am never lonely because never alone.
Whether aloud or muttered or on silent tongue,
nestled in Love's bosom I am,
wherever these blessed Names are sung.

When I sing Shiva only the Self remains,
there is no what or who, no questions of matter,
but grounded in Body and from Body freed –
into dimensions of Body, which returns to seed;

I disappear, I manifest, I am here and I exist,
as I hear and as I'm real, so may I ever present feel
in this world as in every other: nourished by my Divine Mother.
Ah, there's a Love which can't be spoken, but only sung.