The Lover

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Part One.

I fell in love
because I could not see him;
I fell in love
because I could not touch him.

I fell in love.
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In the beginning,
The Lover appeared—
once,
twice,
three times.
He seemed like a man,
a very lovely man…
lovely eyes
the shape of the moon
on clear summer nights.
Hands like lightning,
striking a nearby tree.

In the beginning, it was three times.

We met
Three Times.

—And then,
and then,
he
(the seeming man),
was gone.
He returned to his country,
and his hands were no more.
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The weeping was beyond weeping.
The winter was death.

So I began to sing.
Beg.
Offer gifts of poem and proclamation,
endless walks with water and tree.

I prayed,

I prayed,

I prayed.

The earth and the cruel, voluptuous sky:
my only companions.

They never answered.

So I prayed more.

I could not see him anymore.
I could not touch him anymore.
There was nothing,
anymore.
The way his empty hand
never fit into mine;
The way his faraway heart
never near
to whisper or soothe.

This continued.

And then…I simply gave up.

I said no.

This was too much: this terrible “missing.”

This terrible thing from the poetry books and romance films.

No, not for me.

I gave up.

 

Part Two.

Giving up was the moment I found you.

You, the real You.

The real Beloved.

You!

It was Eyes, looking
back
into itself.
It was the Girl, the girl from the convex mirror.
It was the Boy, the boy who smiled
when they said the mirror was cracked.
It was memories,
past lives
now clean:
two sisters,
swearing to sing forever…
All gone now. All clean.

All the brothers and mothers and children
finally
finally
at peace.

It was love.
It was lightning
striking the tree
from the window
we cannot see.

It was Love, in truest form.

It was Me.

 

 

Sri Sathya Sai Baba

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Like the flower who bears no honey,

I stumble like a drunk—

pitiful, yearning,

totally ignorant of my radiant color.

Purples, pinks, greens—

when form meets taste,

the dance begins.

Reds, yellows, whites—when sound meets light,

desire materializes.

 

Oh Merciful Lord,

Oh life-giving Swami,

I cannot dance one more day

In the darkness

Without your love.

 

I must forget who I am

and revert back to dust.

I must remember.

I must forget.

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P
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Dragonflies and Flesh

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The sun is the
moon
tonight.
Daughter of all stars.

A blue clearing pervades the sky,
taking names
(persuading even
the bottom of these clear blue lakes)

We’re covered with mist, my dear.
We’ve covered in kisses.
This is the moment—
this is the moment
the door swings open.

We can finally finally sing.

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Co-Evolution

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In the Vajrayana Buddhist tradition, there is the philosophy and practice of the tantric consort relationship. Rarely, remarkably, in a flash of miraculous lightning, a person appears in our lives who is so perfectly suited to us that all others pale in comparison. When we meet this partner, this dear sacred consort, we must recognize all that this relationship asks of us. We must bow before it, surrender.
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The practice of tantric consort is a lifelong practice. It is blissful, sublime, yet incredibly challenging. It is nothing less than a path to enlightenment. If we are blessed to have met such a person and if we have the courage to surrender to the transformative power of this relationship—to all that it can teach us and to all that it can change within us—then there is the possibility for a real merging of souls to occur. There is now not two people, but one. In this sacred togetherness, the notion of a separate self, or a separate ego, drops away. In its place is pure unity and love.
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In the following poem, Alistair J. Kraft dives into the waters of such an all-encompassing, unifying love. Kraft asks us, as readers, to drop our defenses, recognizing that some bonds are more powerful than our individual will to resist … some bonds thrust us into pure being. Some bonds, some paths, we have no choice but to follow.
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I hope you enjoy this beautiful poem.
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–Anya Light
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♥♥

 

CO-EVOLUTION

 

There is a pathway into

my heart that only you

are shaped to follow, forged

by the sum total of our lives,

experiences, bringing us inexorably

inevitably

fatefully to each other’s arms we co-

evolved to fit together with a

blinding perfection, heart to

heart, soul to

soul and from that we both

find a place to call home, someone

to touch those places no one else

is shaped to reach in our depths.

Of all the possible lovers in a life

this is your home in my soul, only I

am this home in yours.

 

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Alistair J. Kraft is a poet, author, professor, part-time pagan, and animal lover based in Cincinnati, Ohio. He spends his spare time contemplating social justice, comedy, and how cute his rescue animals are. He can be found on Facebook at Alistair J. Kraft, or on Instagram and Twitter @poetofcats

Forgiveness

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consciously choosing
altered action
in the face of
expanded information
about how the Universe works
how the rose grows
how we are loved

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Eternity

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a poem by Anya Light

 

I remember the body-less time.

The time before arms and legs.

It was a time before wonder—

because everything was wonder.

Everything was peace.

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I remember the body-less time.

Carved into bone,

this memory.

Any end of the cosmos was mine

in a wink or a blink.

…Maybe this

at least partially explains

my sorrow

at needing a car

or filling a wallet with dollars

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The Moment of Surrender

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I am the quiet

 

the end of your quiet day

 

I am the noisy

 

the end of your noisy day

 

I am the noisy

I am the quiet

 

The end of your day

 

 

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I Am

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I am the robin

the vulture

 

I am

princess

pirate

rebel and square

 

I am never

always loved

 

yin and yang

bad and better

 

castle of forgetting

and valley of forever

 

I am

dream in the streaming clouds

 

and

sparrow in the grass

 

 

I am, I am, I am

 

 

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Amma

 

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In morning

She rises

To the sound of water

 

In evening

Her repose

Is the clear light of day

 

(and

always always

the innumerable Hum:

of

I AM

flooding her brain)

 

 

One morning, though,

there will be no rising…

One morning, though,

No clear light of day.

 

One morning

One morning

Her children will instantly (somehow) know:

Ah, she has dropped the body.

Ah, the butterfly soul!

 

 

Oh dear sweet mother,

how long are your days with us?

Oh dear sweet Amma,

how long can your hands hold?

Sunshine Is on the Inside

inside!

When the sky is gray,
look inside.

When clouds cover the land,
Look inside.

No matter whether raindrops fall
or blizzards large and small—
Look inside.

There, there is where
you will find the sunshine.

Sunshine is on the inside.