Even the most experienced mystic has moments when grace and connection have gone missing. The first poem explores the sense of loss following the fullness of union.
It will always be true that couples will squabble.
The solitary lover is just as bad,
quarreling with light over the fading of grace,
accusing the Sky of a lack of commitment
and losing track of the cycles of radiance.
Last night I had an argument with the moon –
she’d left me for a bank of clouds.
I felt so alone with Death and the Dark,
unable to bear Infinity all by myself.
Tonight we made up with a toast to starlight.
How sweet! I got a little tipsy.
Her gown was dropped onto the surface of a pool,
and my body became moon shadow.
So I poured the moon into my glass.
But when I got to the last drop
she was already back in the sky flirting with clouds.
My goblet was empty as a hollow idol.
Should I argue with the Sky
when it seems like the party is over?
Any glass can be shattered. So what!
The broken shards still reflect moonlight.
This next poem is one in which the harmony of union feels in contrast with the disharmonies in the world. I forced myself to four line stanzas to keep from rambling on about my inadequacy in the first stanza.
An isolated beach has become my confidant.
I feel like a Buddha without hands.
There are ten thousand untended disagreements,
more love required than I can find to give.
Water speaks with stones.
Waves kiss the shoreline.
The sky’s passion links the horizon.
Discomfort slowly passes.
I cannot heal The Thousand today.
So instead I love all the motions of water.
And breezes not yet blown
breathe into the edges of life.