This Yearning

MAI's picture

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I never looked for a picture of you
The words came forth
And you came alive through them

An image as good as any likeness of a picture
Ripples on the waters
Of a flowing stream


Like the rays of the sun
Without looking at the sun

The reflection of the moon in the waters
Just as stunning as the moon itself

Like sitting way back at one of those rock concerts
Where you cannot see the star on stage

And up close and personal
Coming alive on the large screen
Right under your chin

And yet it's closer than your breath

I looked at the image on the screen
And at the singer on the stage
Back and forth
And back again

And found no difference
The singer no different from his own spitting image

And I closed my eyes
And drowned in the song
The singer disappeared
Along with the one who heard the song

There was only the singing

Empty echoes
Of a yearning

This very love
The yearning
For that
Which was never apart

Seeking to touch
And hold the waves

To grasp an image
In the pond of my own tears

A smile

And to wipe the waves
Of the scowls
On the image of an angry face

This attempt
To net these fleeting glimpses

Mine is as much a tale, as yours
Life, woven into a beautiful tapestry

The song of a silkworm
Spinning it's yarn

Singing a song

Emptiness dancing

A sage is not a separate imaged entity from a me and a you

The very love and emptiness

This intuited unicity

Many question the validity of a sage

Yet never once question the validity of the questioning self

Falling through each other

As the handholds fell

And even the holder of handholds fell
Through itself

The knots simply untie themselves

Oh my... I exclaimed

Another one bites the dust


There's simply no thing here or there
Or nowhere or everywhere
Or anywhere

And tears mingled with laughter

And I couldn't anymore tell
Where one ended
And the other began

Sparkly shiny things

Even when it's known
That there are no separate things

Once seen
It cannot be unseen

It is all the dream

And yet it bleeds out
In iridescent colours

Perfuming the dream

So many... so many
Have come and gone

Through death
Or otherwise

Memories of a butterfly

They've become memories
Of loving
And having being loved
Through it all



As empty fingers curl around themselves

And this makes me cry

The world

In the palms of my hand

A dew drop

At the edge of a leaf