“This is how a living master opens the inner eye,
so when words are heard
they can be seen through a lens.â€Â
(Coleman Barks, The Soul of Rumi)
Is this conversation going on always, this remembrance,
whether I know it or not?
Sometimes I think of you and the phone rings.
Someone reminds me I can do some tangible thing for you.
You are form and not form.
Those who have seen you know this is possible.
Listening to you, the heart opens.
Eyes can’t stay dry but weep as if overflowing.
A full moon, a field of coloured water, cleansing, sparkled blessings.
Holi. Play.
No right words, but this quest for words,
to express the longing, fulfillment.
After the lens has been cleaned,
the eye has been opened,
why do I search in darkness for a switch?