The promises of non-existence
Are self-deception.


Because

Filtering between the flakes of swirling snow,

Hovering amid planes of silver gray light

Sliding in the silence of the whistling wind

Here and now
The sweet and fleeting aroma of Zen

Calls

constantly

Confluence

And so in confluence,
a new form of time emerges,
expanding laterally,
embracing phenomena not hitherto linked,
creating questions, melodies
hitherto perhaps dreamed embrace

Untitled

Finding (what is called) oneself in the swirl of confluence

Shores unclear

Finding (what is called) fallen in love

Thus truly finding (what is called) oneself :

The world swirling round reveals in its intensity uninterrupted ,
its truthfulness,

The Yogini's Embrace,

That death itself
is temporary, adventitious, false.

Gratitude/ Aurora Borealis

Confluence, scent,
sudden discovery, small exchange -
All expanding the meaning of words

Love surpassing lovers
sounds, worlds.

Space glowing

oh

Gathering

Weaving and being woven
In the dazzling intensity of affinity

Who or what is being born so brightly?

As fluids, vaporized by distance
Pulse and magnetize each other,
So cross the warm skin of the night sky
As shimmering gold and silver clouds
In which a pearl moon throbs and dances

On the edge of a day, a life, a morning to be re-born.

Weaving and Un-weaving

Is there any perspective in which these ever can be separate?

Oh.

There is no answer.


There is only heart

And heart beat

Inseparable

Everlastingly