When I was One, I couldn’t walk yet,so I just sat at the open doorthat leads to all worlds at once.No one taught me exile and longing.I rested unfathomably at the silentcore of all that is possible.The world was just as crazy and fullof bumps as it is today.
I just hadn't learned to label them yet.It was all a continuum oflumpy wonder and grace, Om-madebread pudding with honey.
One taste and the coral rose of September
would whisper to the February plum bud,
"We are so lucky to be confused!
Let's feel each other’s toesdown where the mushrooms grow!"All my senses were made out of fur.
Every moment was a blessed Fall
into some delectable imperfectionthat allowed me to wondersmell andtastetouch my way up the viridescent stem
whose tiniest flowers are the stars.
I followed the blackest rainbowinto the golden voidbecause I wasn’t looking for that place,I was looking from that place…Why not begin your life with a finalbenediction, here, in the hollowof the fruit, where all journeysend like tongues of delectable fire?
Listen friend, how much time do you have left
on this planet to learn the secret
that has never been kept?
Taste and see! Your tongue will rise above
the knowledge of good and evil.
It happens in your spine, in a myriad
vast little worlds of nectar
fizzling up in the ferment of meditation.
Face the truth: there's a wild unpruned apple tree
unfolding pink buds in your hypothalamus.
It's the door to the bee tavern
where women go to converse with their serpents.
You could ascend to paradise by sinking
into that muddy meadow,
get lost and learn what Jesus and Muhammad
and other mad poets have been giggling about
for thousands of years
Since reason makes you thick, here's a hint:
Each cell of your belly button is a wine cup.
Each synapse in your brain is a thirsty tongue
yearning for sugar that comes from the heart;
your spine is rooted in a buzzing garden
gone to seed, vines clustered with uselessly
That insect-sound inside you is the moon
and planets clanging at your birth,
gonging at your death;
and this earth that you call such a problem
is your own effervescence
in the sugar of emptiness.
All light is God.But not all light is the same.
The light that shines from your heart,
from your eyes,
from the wise darkness of your tears,
is your own rainbow.
Its fountain is deeper inside you
than the Pleiades
flowing in a trillion shades
to kindle the earth
and give away a heavenly secret
when you smile.
Collage of my poem by Rashani