Evening Meditation

O trembling emptiness in waves of uncreated light, flowering prism of the void, I dare not sing you into form, lest this ecstasy die!

The peacock's tail spreads confusion like a rainbow through nameless tears. Gaze into this jewel and see your own kaleidoscopic face, O Trickster of Vrindivan, blue as the yearning sky!

Through me you have become the amethyst of your own desire, a mirror shattered into perfection. This is the lotus of 10,000 daggers that pierces the chest of the Alone.

O Shyama Sundara, the moon, hearing your cruel flute, strews her petals on the still forest pool,
a requiem for the heart. We are each other's madness, each other's inhalation.

Perhaps we are two syllables of one name, the voluptuous shimmering wings of So'ham. I listen to the
lustrous silence in the sound of this breath. If you let me call you Krishna, I will let you call me your own Self.


I was weary with hearing
the sound of no.
I thirsted for the sound
of yes.
Then I fell into the pool
of Silence
and drowned.
Deep called to deep
and the music
of love arose.
Rooted in dark sap
my heart blossomed.
Each breath
became a golden ray
of the light I had
been seeking.
Sometimes it is enough
just to hurt awhile.


Some say that the world is transformed
       through political action.
Some say that the world is transformed
       through anarchy.
Some say that the world is transformed
       through waves of silence
in a heart that has drowned
       in the ocean of God.
I say, there is no need
       to transform anything
because the world was annihilated
       and recreated
just now -
       a sparkle of light
on the wing of a dragonfly.

Photo by Laurent Berthier