These Sticks And Stones

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Oh how beautiful, this love....!
Priceless treasure.....
A heart can but hold, a drop......
And it bursts it's container.....
Unable to contain.....
The torrential flow......
And every drop a heartbeat now.....
No matter how vast the ocean.....
Sweetness......
Everywhere......
Flows.......

Aaaaaaahhhhhh........these sticks and stones......and petals of flowers......
Love's tender droplets.....in outstreched palms.....

Tears

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Those empty hands with trinkets filled.....
In every rock....
A love song trills. ...
And in every stick. ...
A child's heart sings. ...
And this heart breaks
With every empty...every fill....
And love sparkles. ...
As Nani 's eyes spill....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Baby Rishi, was littler....he's 4 years old now.....
I'd be sitting in the garden watching him and his brothers playing.....
The older two would be bouncing on the trampolin.....
Or playing tennis on the lawns.....
And leave Rishi, out of their games.....
He'd hover around the garden like a butterfly......
Collecting, sticks and stones......
A Temple Tree flower....
Here.....
A jasmin, or two.....
There.....
Palms full of grains of sand.....
And sparkling wings that had been dropped by a dragonfly.....
A spectrum of leaves.....
And anything he could find.....

And without any hesitation.....
His hands emptied and filled.....
Emptied and filled....endlessly ......

Aaaaahhhhh.......

This love.....

Love is an idea....
Just like you and me.....
Yet most wondrous in this imaginary land of two-step....
Beyond which....
Nothing is.....
And then.....
Not even that.....

Love is intuited unicity. ...

The mound he'd place.....
On the table in front of me....
And shyly then.....
With both hands behind his back....
Now empty......
He'd say, softly.....
"These are for you.....Nani...."

Aaaaahhhhh......it was love that ripped me apart and love that brought me back.....

Tears....