Where exhalation and inhalation kiss,
there is a kind of wedding at the gate of stillness.
The whole body gathers here like a great congregation.
It takes the Other to awaken Oneness.
But we don't need to count the petals of the golden dahlia.
White robes of the Master, brown feet and sandals,
are only an occasion for Sun and Moon
to shimmer in your chest.
His pleasure is for you to become the very gaze
that spills from his eyes.
Grace is not an idea, but a flame ignited by touches,
glances, a sudden breath of wonder,
a scent of rose and evening rain.
The great abstraction has taken flesh.