This Little Acre

(ca. 1986/7) 

Elixir sweet is the Will refined,

      it empow'rs the personality –

      it swells from heart and stills the mind,

      ennobling our reality.

Of the Self-in-all I sing to you,

      of the joy surpassing reason;

      come sing with me of life renewed,

      come season upon season.

In the expression of hospitality

introductions are an empty gesture

for charity is in the glance.

In the lovingkindness of heart

words are few because inadequate …

for Thought molds and cultivates

the feeling and consideration of feeling.

When one is in love one is in love,

and when that is greater than all considerations

the oceanic quality of the heart

dictates all boundaries,

carrying off all that's entrusted to it

to a place solid beyond imagining,

where no rises or depressions upset the balance,

where the virgin quantity of one's innocence

and profound effervescent beauty are restored.

While we still occupy this little acre,

                                 you and I,

be like a pump and draw this ocean

into a cup, absorbing it in depth.

Looking Deeper In

(ca. 1986/7)

Look into my eyes, look
with the mirror of your heart –
Look beneath my humor, and my eccentricity;
Even my intellect, or the gentle care
with which I regard, even touch you –
Dare to penetrate what seems;
If you heard the song of my soul,
how it surrounds you:
Truly you'd catch the secret
of your own true nature,
revealing to you the Path of Love,
how it comes and goes,
like a single breath, a steady symphonic chord
drawn from the first Humans,
extending through the Ages.

Delicately I walk that Path and serve it.

Kul ad-duniya b'tedowwr b'il-'amr –
W'anti ajmal min al-qamr –
Inna 'ishq-allah m'abud l'illah –
Wa b'kul al-khalaq 'ahubb al-amraa'h.

(All the world turns according to order –
And you are more beautiful than the moon –
Indeed! God is Love, Lover and Beloved –
And out of all Creation I love the Sovereign Order of Love.)

For It Is He That Beckons

(ca. 1986/7)

ALLAH is a Communication –

from AH to AH . . .

When a child looks upon me – I disappear,
it is He that beckons:

AH L' AH L' AH L' AH L' AH

Show me the least gesture of beauty or of subtlety:
Yussuf beholds himself through my eyes . . .

AH L' AH L' AH L' AH L' AH

For it is He that beckons in the personal display
of nobility or of grace –
I hear His ways and would that I were his slave:

AH L' AH L' AH L' AH L' AH

And should I find and should I see the Majesty of His Person
reflected in my very Self –
Surely the way of perfect humility is the very threshold
of effacement in the sovereign and dynamic.

AH L' AH L' AH L' AH L' AH

"Getting Religion"

Religion is a cultural attempt to approach God, to approach the Divine, to approach Soul. That is all it is, and to confuse it with either of these is like confusing an image with the thing being imaged, or da Vinci's "Last Supper" with Christ himself. There are those who argue for religion and never get this, and there are those who argue against religion and
never get this. I'm for Religion, so I'll address this.

Soul doesn't evolve really, for it's already eternal, but mind evolves, culture evolves, so religion evolves as well. One would hope. Any religion, whatever the culture or geographical placement or history, which does not view the mere notion of slavery and holding slaves as unthinkable, and its practice as the antithesis of its own Teaching, has not yet arrived at being rightly called Religion. Any religion which foments bigotry, supremacy over others, strife and violence – even while, or especially while, lulling its apologists or its target audience with phrases like "peace" and "peaceful" - cannot rightly be said to have evolved to being a Religion.

Any religion which has failed to teach, to demonstrate and to get across to all hearers, from the most simple person to the most sophisticated thinker: that God is Love, that Soul is nothing but That; that Religion, if it is worth its salt, draws us toward and binds us to that very Love, embracing all souls, seeing ourselves in all embodied sentient Beings – with whichever cultural phrasing one cloaks this – arousing in each more empathy, more lovingkindness, more compassion, and out of this: more wisdom - any religion which has failed to do this has not evolved to the place of being Religion.

Some will find this redundant, or offensive or silly. Do I care? I'm concerned only with conforming my life and breath to what I just asserted. So wherever this shoe fits, let it be worn.

Worth

This evening I heard the voice of thousands,
silently asking, "What is my self-worth?"
Ever harping, ever picking, seeking distraction
from this gnawing, desperate measure drenched
in our own illusion that there is a "self-worth,"
and that mine or yours might come up short.

And the answer which uproots the question
is also a question but a better one, namely:
What is my Self worth?

The answer to that question being:  pursue Inquiry.
That Self can neither be bought nor sold, nor
measured nor priced nor given nor taken.
What is this Self worth - to me, to you?

As Soul was before religion or psychology,
approaching and addressing the Self is
the stuff of clean sincerity, not vapid ideology;
of conscious desire, not self-conscious flattery.

Love will awaken the interest, Love will guide
and bring us guides, Love will sustain the effort,
Love will inspire and nourish and teach patience,
Love will reveal itself as the very Self that is sought.

But A Whisper

There is not a moment without you,
there is no absence. I keep you with me,
I keep you with me. Your breath
is in my own very breath, your subtle body
courses through mine. I will ever tremble for love of you,

I am not ashamed to admit it.
Even standing hand in hand before the Altar
of This Love, as witness with you
to This Love which is ours –
I will have perhaps mastered this awe
in body, but my heart
will always fall prostrate to it.
Though it rocks me to the very foundations
this is not to be shouted from the rooftops,
it is told in but a whisper.

Meanwhile

Speaking His Name – I speak yours.
Addressing Him in Song – I address you singing.
Losing myself in the vision of my Lord and Cherisher,
in the vision of the Self, of the Beloved – I am lost in you.
Now as I devote myself to this Friday evening's praise and melody:
should I but part my lips, my breath is fixed on our kiss,
my tongue is married to yours, and only honey may clothe
the words which issue from my mouth
whether sacred or common, to anyone or whomever;
the sweet red wine I drink – is your saliva,
the bread I partake of – is our Fucking.
My body sways with you, it can hardly keep still!  Emotion overtakes me,
I want to weep for yearning after you – then I'm good, I'll be alright.
The sense of separation passes; the determined, indeed pre-determined,
Union is cherished, assured, vouchsafed.
Like water through an aquaduct, blood through my vessels,
you are consciously inseparable from me, feeding me, keeping me alive
for that day when our bodies will join all dimensions in one
never-ending Act of our Lovemaking.   Meanwhile 
I perform this Shabbos-Kiddush, meanwhile
I perform this Puja, meanwhile
I sing.