Rumi and Kabir Bowling
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Last year, as I understand it, Rumi was the best selling poet in the United States — 800+ years after he was alive. Amazing, eh? Clearly, there is something timeless and universal in his words. Kabir, too, is still being widely read — as is Hafiz, Gibran, and a host of other ecstatic poets from times gone by. Many people assume these guys must have been praying, meditating, and going on pilgrimages all the time. I don’t think so. All one has to do is read their poetry to see how down to earth they were, how irreverant, and how funny. Anyway…this next piece is an homage to Rumi and Kabir — my little fantasy of how the two of them might have spent an evening — in a bowling alley — if they were still alive today. (Read it aloud for maximum value). Enjoy!
The Forest of You
the trees of me
in the forest of you
echoing laughter
songs are brand new
the shelter of you
in the heart of me
is a harbor deep blue
in a dark stormy sea
the laughter of you
in the soul of me
opens my windows
sets the bird free
the trees of you
in the forest of me
are the gifts
that keep blooming
from the seeds
that were free
the flowers of you
in the clay pot of me
are the souls of butterflies
dancing,
for all to see
The Singing Birds of Infinity
The Amazing Visit
Is now who I am
under the Dust of the Stars
Singing in Raincoats of feathers
Echoing in Canyons of Ecstasy
Shouting with the soft cloth of Remembrance
Dividing Time with the Clean knife of Clarity
Scattering butter and sugar to the mouths of
Singing birds
Those lost and lovely
Singing birds of Infinity …
The peeling husks of time
The fine line between
vulnerability and safety
has carved a deep river for me to cross
I want to hold the light,
in this vessel
breathe
and become the breath
Identify
my true identity
Home
Life is a colourful maze of glorious adventures.
Each turn left or right, takes me to some unexplored places. Like sailing down a river to long-forgotten worlds, I find myself at peace knowing that every turn along the way will bring me closer to myself.
I marvel at the soft textures of materials and the brilliance of each scene that lands upon my screen.
Birds chirp happily in their nest, while summer brims with scents of bbq’d fish and mouthwatering melon.
My home unfolds before me in radiant colorings.
May I Stay Here Forever
May I stay here forever in this perfect place of peace with you —
the sacred space between in breath and out,
the final coming home,
timeless moment before the need for anything has risen,
Buddha enjoying his late afternoon nap
with no around to extract any meaning from it.
First, there is a breath,
and then, there is a second.
This is how I begin my long walk with you by the water’s edge,
cool white sand beneath both our feet.