The common thing between this dark descending slowly, and this winter bird …and your melancholy is that there’s no true reason behind any. Don’t look for causes – They are red herrings meant to keep you from looking at the answer behind: The unchanging sky, where all things come and go in the folding and unfolding of pure Emptiness.
Sometimes you come to me Disguised as a friend, a stranger A student sometimes And, sitting low below me You ask me, ardently, to sing… Enamored by your asking, then Yet, slowly and hesitantly, like A hatchling tiptoeing to the edge of a cliff Warmed by the sun that also seems to be below I sing my blurry-eyed song Just a newborn, raw call across the immense valley That I don’t yet know how to cross… But you break into rapture You dance on the words And hold close my broken notes As if they were stars of the rarest sky And – as if they came from me – When, I know, it is all you… Even the wind Even the wings Even the valley Even the song. Tell me, my Master Isn’t this how you ease me Out of the frail safety of my nest? Don’t you make me a hawk And, you, the sky I pour myself into So I may learn from your open arms That joy has two sides: One, a giver, two, a receiver…? The world holds higher the giver The singer, the poet, the painter, but If there weren’t always the receptacle The unconditional, bottomless heart There would be no homecoming No tears of joy… Would there? And when our exchange is done for the night And sleep closes all outward doors I forget all this grand knowing, except: How much you love me That you meet me everywhere, inside everything. This is the gift you wanted me to find Hidden in your disguise Isn’t it?
The day you hear that river Burst through the old ice And begin to flow deep inside you Go away far, be roaming and irreverent Like a tiger, hungry… For the only one who needs you the most now Is you.
Go, lie on the open body of grass – For it is both small and endless… It can understand, wordlessly When you tell it that You are erupting like a tiny seed That carries the blues of creation in its void.
And for once, don’t be afraid Of that precious light They call madness and prescribe ways to cure… Use it for what it is meant: The only proven method To get the world out of your way.