the waves of the mind

demand so much of Silence.

but she does not talk back

does not give answers nor arguments.

she is the hidden author of every thought

every feeling

every moment.

 

Silence.

 

she speaks only one word.

and that word is this very existence.

no name you give Her

touches Her

captures Her.

no understanding

can embrace Her.

 

mind throws itself at Silence

demanding to be let in.

but no mind can enter into

Her radiant darkness

Her pure and smiling

nothingness.

 

the mind hurls itself

into sacred questions.

but Silence remains

unmoved by tantrums.

She asks only for nothing.

 

Nothing.

 

but you won’t give it to Her

because it is the last coin

in your pocket.

and you would rather

give her your demands than

your sacred and empty hands.

- adyashanti

the time has come to turn your heart into a temple of fire.

your essence is gold hidden in the dust,

to reveal its splendour

you need to burn in the fire of love.

 

when compassion fills my heart

free from all desire,

i sit quietly like the earth.

my silent cry echoes

like thunder throughout the Universe.

 

there is a way from your heart to mine

and my heart knows this,

because it is clean and pure like water.

when the water is still like a mirror

it will behold the moon

rumi (coleman barks version) 

you see, I want a lot. 

perhaps I want everything;

the darkness that comes with every infinite fall,

and the shivering blaze of every step up.

so many live on and want nothing, 

and are raised to the rank of prince 

by the slippery ease of their light judgments.

but what you love to see are faces 

that do work and feel thirst. 

you love most of all those who need you 

as they need a crowbar or a hoe. 

you have not grown old, and it is not too late 

to dive into your increasing depths 

where life calmly gives out its secret.

-rilke

the colors of the Dark One have penetrated Mira's body;

all the other colours washed out. making love with the Dark One and eating little, those are my pearls and my carnelians. meditation beads and the forehead streak, those are my scarves and my rings. that's enough feminine wiles for me. my teacher taught me this. approve me or disapprove me: i praise the Mountain Energy night and day. i take the path that ecstatic human beings have taken for centuries. i don't steal money, i don't hit anyone. what will you charge me with? i have felt the swaying of the elephant's shoulders; and now you want me to climb on a jackass? try to be serious.

mirabai

the soul, like the moon, 

is now, and always new again. 

and i have seen the ocean 

continuously creating. 

since i scoured my mind 

and my body, i too

am new, each moment new. 

my teacher told me one thing, 

live in the soul. 

when that was so, 

i began to go naked

and dance. 

- lalla (coleman barks version) 

to you

whoever you are, i fear you are walking the walks of dreams,

i fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet
         and hands, 

even now your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, 
         troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dissipate away from you, 

your true soul and body appear before me,

they stand forth out of affairs, out of commerce, shops, work, 
         farms, clothes, the house, buying, selling, eating, drinking, 
         suffering, dying. 

whoever you are, now i place my hand upon you, that you be my
         poem, 

i whisper with my lips close to your ear,

i have loved many women and men, but i love none better than
         you. 

o i have been dilatory and dumb,

i should have made my way straight to you long ago,

i should have blabb'd nothing but you, i should have chanted
         nothing but you. 

i will leave all and come and make the hymns of you,

none has understood you, but i understand you,

none has done justice to you, you have not done justice to your-
         self, 

none but has found you imperfect, i only find no imperfection in
         you, 

none but would subordinate you, i only am he who will never
         consent to subordinate you, 

i only am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, 
         beyond what waits intrinsically in yourself...

...

walt whitman