As a night of lovin
becomes a night of lovin
As the smoothness of sand,
descends into the glass blower’s breath.
Your face, alone
with the night,
Unites.
I have note seen it
but I have seen myself seeing this,
and that is
enough, for now.
For what is,
is best.
The longing
mingled with
not longing
Little things
grand and small
bring the sweetness
of cosmic life.
Never in truth
has the moment
become the moments.
A single tear
from the well of wanting
can spoil a thousand
buckets of becoming.
But nothing can touch being.
Only thought!?
No, thought,
only things it can.
Would I leave this place,
where the shovel
awaits the digging.
There are only rocks,
rocks, covered by rocks,
covered by the sins of the father
and the father’s father.
They are only rocks
till you move them
Then they become
the corner stones
of vision
the foundations
of wisdom
the beginning of purpose
The movement of love
in this God-filled existence.
Wait not in the hole
from which the cornerstones
were quarried,
but rightly
and humbly majestic
atop them.
Let stillness be the mortar
between your stones.
And let the space
between your walls
your ceiling, your floors
be filled with this
substantial, sacred, nothing.
I cannot give you more
than I have freed myself from.
In truth
I want you
to have none of what
I have freed myself from
but all of that which has
freed me,
beyond, before, and as I am.
Woman! Spill my blood
on the walls of those
dying to be true.
My sweet innocence
awaits my strength.
A love like this,
a love like this!
This love
no longer awaits me.
It is me!
It is me!
And it is me
lovin you.
Poem by Ray Songs
Title & Verse “Spill my Blood on the Walls of those Dying to be True” by Suzanne Stokes