What remains when Yes and No
dissolve?  Only the Master.

Sometimes you are the moon among pearls
on the golden string of my astonished breath,

sometimes lips and sapphire galaxies
that gaze me to the womb, whispering

"Don't be afraid, numberless angels
await their turn for this birth."

Sometimes you are the ancient forest,
din of the rainbow, silence of flowers,

those open mouths of wonder...
Sometimes the perfume of forgetfulness,

nothing more than a razor wave
of Presence, a lingering exhalation

in my bamboo spine, your fingers
playing over me, the night wind.

No, I am a penny whistle.
Yes, you honor my empty places.
Every form is a veil of love.
Therefor I am fearless.