Poetry is just the evidence of life.
If your life is burning well,
poetry is just the ash.

...

~ Leonard Cohen

.

...

I've given up on my brain.

I've torn the cloth to shreds

and thrown it away.

...
If you're not completely naked,

wrap your beautiful robe of words

around you, and sleep.

...

~ Rumi

.

I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose

...

I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

...

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

...

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

...

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

...

~ Pablo Neruda

.

in gratitude

We kneel in gratitude

as the movements in love

disperse our sweet intentions

across the fictions

of Companionship-

two of the creatures

which You named Me

~ Leonard Cohen

She is standing on my eyelids

...

She is standing on my eyelids
And her hair is wound in mine,

She has the form of my hands,

She has the colour of my eyes,

She is swallowed by my shadow

Like a stone against the sky.

...

Her eyes are always open

And will not let me sleep.

Her dreams in broad daylight

Make the suns evaporate

Make me laugh, cry and laugh,

Speak with nothing to say.

...

~ Paul Eluard

.

my soul was drenched

When the Day came --
The Day I had lived and died for --
The Day that is not in any calendar --
Clouds heavy with love
Showered me with wild abundance.
Inside me, my soul was drenched.
Around me, even the desert grew green.

~ Kabir

He had waited so long

...
He had waited so long: his latter years had been no more than a stand-to. Oppressed with countless little daily cares, he had waited: of course he had run after girls all that time, he had travelled, and naturally he had had to earn his living. But through all that, his sole care had been to hold himself in readiness. For an act. A free, considered act; that should pledge his whole life, and stand at the beginning of a new existence. He had never been able to engage himself completely in any love-affair, or any pleasure, he had never been really unhappy: he always felt as though he were somewhere else, that he was not yet wholly born. He waited. And during all that time, gently, stealthily, the years had come, they had grasped him from behind ...

...

~ Jean-Paul Sartre
 
.

Up those stone steps I climb

...

Up those stone steps I climb
Hail this joyful day's return

Into its great shadowed vault I go

Hail the Pentecostal morn

...

The reading is from Luke 24

Where Christ returns to his loved ones

I look at the stone apostles

Think that it's alright for some

...

And I wish that I was made of stone

So that I would not have to see

A beauty impossible to define

A beauty impossible to believe

...

A beauty impossible to endure

The blood imparted in little sips

The smell of you still on my hands

As I bring the cup up to my lips

...

No God up in the sky

No devil beneath the sea

Could do the job that you did, baby

Of bringing me to my knees

...

Outside I sit on the stone steps

With nothing much to do

Forlorn and exhausted, baby

By the absence of you

...

~ Nick Cave

.

Your Catfish Friend

If I were to live my life

in catfish forms

in scaffolds of skin and whiskers

at the bottom of a pond

and you were to come by

   one evening

when the moon was shining

down into my dark home

and stand there at the edge

   of my affection

and think, "It's beautiful

here by this pond.  I wish

   somebody loved me,"

I'd love you and be your catfish

friend and drive such lonely

thoughts from your mind

and suddenly you would be

   at peace,

and ask yourself, "I wonder

if there are any catfish

in this pond?  It seems like

a perfect place for them."

...

 ~ Richard Brautigan

...

If you want to know God,

Then turn your face toward your friend,

And don't look away.

...

~ Rumi

e.e.cummings- charcoal sketch

pencil sketch by e.e.cummings

silently if,out of not knowable

silently if,out of not knowable

night's utmost nothing,wanders a little guess

(only which is this world)more my life does

not leap than with the mystery your smile

sings or if(spiralling as luminous

they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,

less into heaven certainly earth swims

than each my deeper death becomes your kiss

losing through you what seemed myself,i find

selves unimaginably mine;beyond

sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears

yours is the light by which my spirit's born:

yours is the darkness of my soul's return

-you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars

~ e.e.cummings

...
A bird the size

of a leaf fills

the whole lucid

evening with

his note, and flies.

...

~ Wendell Berry

An eye is meant to see things.

The soul is here for its own joy.

A head has one use: for loving a true love.

Legs: to run after.

 

Love is vanishing into the sky.  The mind,

for learning what men have done and tried to do.

Mysteries are not to be solved.  The eye goes blind

when it only wants to see why.

 

A lover is always accused of something.

But when he finds his love, whatever was lost

in the looking comes back completely changed.

 

~ Rumi