Becoming Me

and when I'm not full,
like that mellow fruit
on a pregnant tree, 
I let you in -
to fill me,
to become
you in me,
dying to what I really am -
a soul that's not up for sale,
the harvest of a love
that cannot be demanded
or plundered,
but only given,
in quiet patience,
as the tree holds her fruit
and her wholesome shade,
for those who care enough
to stop by and relish her bounty,
and sit under her radiant boughs
that speak incessantly
to the sun, the earth
and the dark heavens,
singing songs of love
flowing from the fullness
of a heart that hears
the stirrings of the universe,
and what it takes
to let you be you,
and to 'become me'.

The Blind Painter

and I watched him closely
as he painted
not what he saw
with his shrouded eyes,
but what he felt
with his empty heart,
as the canvas came alive
with unnamed colours
to fill my senses,
and his broken art.

Be Careful!

'Be careful!'
I hear voices,
sometimes inside,
sometimes outside -
a fearful anticipation,
an unwelcome arrival,
a harsh denial,
that jars the present
and pickles a spirit
that doesn't want to hide;
'be-care-full'
is the voice
I choose to hear -
one voice,
soft and firm,
for each step
into the magical darkness
that I pour myself into.

The Bowl

and I waited
like a beggar -
for someone
to fill up
my empty bowl,
until Life
passed by, and
struck it gently
with love,
turning it into
a singing bowl,
empty and full,
of silence
and song.

Notes to Myself - 6

Numbing oneself from something is not really a way of escaping (although it may seem like that from the outside), but is actually a way of getting completely 'into' something else and deeply. Something that moves you, gets you in touch with yourself and makes you feel alive. It feels great to be alive!

***************** 

A cup full of love, is too full to receive any more.
A cup that is empty of love, always yearns for more.
A cup that is half full, always has enough. It can give and receive love with equanimity.

***************** 

Of Nameless Things

sometimes,
when you close
your eyes,
and feel
a fullness
deep inside,
is when
you realise,
how empty
you actually were.

Self Full

If only I could
fill myself up
with my Self -
so full, so complete,
so every tiny cell
and inter-cellular space
is filled with nothing
but You -
then,
I would float on the wind,
carrying your song
to distant shores,
that rest
in their quiet faith
of forgotten tomorrows;
and I will rest too
for a little while,
to empty myself
to the waves and the trees,
until it is time
to fill myself up,
and rise again.

Filling my cup

when I hold
an empty cup,
I can choose
to fill it
with the Universe.