Dear friend:-
You're here finally and I bow to the one that brought you here. You're here because you chose to be here at this time. You're here to celebrate beauty through words we speak, through deep silence. We might call them poetry or songs or chants. It does not matter what we call them. What matters most is you're here. These words come through us like flowers come through plants, like the rains pour from the sky. May we all become the light we spread, the beauty we speak. Blessings.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
impossible for imagination.
I've only tasted a tiny bit of your songs
carried away by the caravan of winds
and I wander around with my mouth watering constantly.
Beloved:
What would happen to me
if I hear you sing with my own ears;
If I see you with my own eyes?
That is impossible even for imagination.
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