in this i locate my self

in this

-{}-

this place

i call home

and which i fill

with all that i know and have known

and then

with

what i imagine

in my most fervent wishing

and hoping

and sometimes with the blessing

of a dream

i open the containment of this place

as subtly as air or water or flame

open the terms of this material world

into otherness

and thisness

-{}-

and i am thankful to wake

each morning

if only to know that the possibility of grace

and the almost unbearably beautiful and perfect presence

of love

can arrive

in the most unlikely guises

and under the most extraordinary

terms -

some as simple

and some as complex

as life itself

-[]-

the world is nothing but the birth of the beloved

without desire to see herself we ourselves would not exist

each instant sings a song about living god knows why

absurd and meaningless awareness of insanity and wisdom

claiming knowledge is wrong and gain through worship impossible

our world and our faith are the dregs of unknowing

wherever the beloved has walked and shown us

the dust of her footprints are all we can hold

we have named the beloved and know we are loved

the back of heaven is bent to greet us

from "the joy of the drop" 37 poems by ghalib

-[]-

music by robert fripp from "love cannot bear"

which is available here