In love there is nothing
between heart and heart.
Words ache after truth.
Only tasting is knowing –
an explanation is a lie.
How can you describe
the thing that wipes you out
and is you
and tells you what to say?
*
If I bow because I fear hell,
burn me in hell
and if I pray for paradise,
lock the door of paradise
but if I love you for yourself,
let me look at you.
*
My soul is a shrine,
mosque or church
where I kneel
at a blank altar.
Love is the place
of powerlessness,
of blazing loss –
rapture pours into itself,
its own drain;
its wings beat me
brainless,
bodiless.
I am a shrine,
a mosque, a church
that dissolves, that
is eaten by
God.
*
In one hand, a flame,
in the other, water.
I am torching Heaven,
extinguishing Hell.
It is time to tear this veil down
and see the real God.
*
Take the badness
mixed up in this prayer –
or take my prayer, badness and all.
Death is the most intimate act.
Knowing who I’ll kiss when it comes,
I consent to a thousand deaths.
*
Sisters,
I recommend reclusion.
With my beloved
I’m peaceful,
nothing human
can compare –
he is where I struggle
and turn
and if I die of desire
and have not satisfied
my love,
well, poor me –
he is the craving and the cure,
existence, ecstasy…
I’m shunning all
this being for
the melting point –
