The Seeker

I remember a tale from long, long ago

There was one who came searching

A wanderer who chose a path

Who chose a path ahead of him

Days and nights, he walked the path

His memories of past lives flowing In his heart,

The Seeker could smell

The jasmine that bloomed in Love’s garden

* * *

[In this life, The Seeker was always alone

But free from the tears of the spring thunderclouds

Unimpressed by the magnificence of the meadows] x2

Though his longing was desperate and deep

Patience walked with him upon the stone path

* * *

Weary, but toting a knapsack of joy

he sang as he watched for the dust in the distance

[Does she too walk in this world yet or not?] x2

* * *

[And the sweet Seeker’s share from this world

Was only the searching, the waiting for her

Pure he remained and pure stayed his heart

For he wasn’t alone, because Hope traveled with him]x2

[How amorous, gentle and warm was his seeking,

How sweet and full of love was his song] x2

The Door-Knock

Someone knocks upon my door.

Perhaps it is you,

Perhaps a stranger, perhaps a wicked child.

The knock of a stranger

Does not move me,

But your knock, my Love,

Finds home in my heart.

My pulse begins racing,

And I cannot deny.

My quickening pulse is a sign.

It is you who is knocking!

****

As I reached for the knob,

I heard a beautiful voice,

That voice of yours, saying:

“It is I who come knocking!

Open the door, it is I!”

Then with euphoric joy

And boundless passion,

I threw back the bolt

*****

For the rest of my days,

I shall wait here at home,

Awaiting that voice,

That distinctive voice.

Perhaps once again, you will knock on my door,

An intimate knock

For the knock of a stranger

Will never move me.

But your knock, my Love,

Finds home in my heart.

Someone comes knocking,

A knock I know well.

It must be you!

It must be you! 

Self-Disclosure

In a meaningless state,

You wasted the years

To reach the beginning of freedom.

But wasted moments bring nothing but hardship

And hardship for you

Became the purpose of life.

[You never realized 

Life is not about wasting your days.] x2

Life is soaring over the joys of time,

Reveling in each measured and finite moment

And delighting in space,

But you were unaware,

Blind to the joy in the time and the pleasures

that were there to be found in the space.  

******

You wasted the years

And thought that by doing so

Life would be flawless.

And though you are flawless

And your words, clear like sweet water,

Are all words of Romance,

You must come to yourself!

But becoming yourself

Without Romance is impossible.

******

And now Romance is within your grasp,

Awareness and passion attainable.

The greatest of loves is attainable

And that precious time lies before you

When you declare to the world with a smile:

“I am a Romancer!  I am a Romancer!”

Bazaar of Desires

Hell is coming, help me my friends

I burn in the flames, come and shield me 

A teardrop comes to my aid  

But could even a river of them quench the flames? 

My hands are bound, my feet are weary

And my heart grows cold and numb 

Alone, growing weaker in faceless agony

Locked away, the path of your love but a memory 

****** 

Hell is coming, help me my friends

I burn in the flames, come and protect me

Does anyone hear my pain?

Or does only an echo answer? 

Romancers don’t care about the ways of the world

Romancers don’t care about scepters of gold

Romancers don’t have any cracks in the walls

Of the towers they build for their Loves

Romancers don’t flatter themselves

Romancers don’t seek selfish glory

Romancers destroy all desire 

But that which is shared

**** 

Smile, my beloved one

Seal forever my understanding

Teach me the gentle perfection of love

Hold tight my hand, my beloved one

Strip away my earthly desires

Throw my body upon the pyre

And my love, pure, will arise from the ash

Bargain my lusts in trade for my soul, 

Find a trick to bring it back with you

From the market of earthly desires

Hell is coming

Re-acquaintance 

Life is full of many tribulations

Don’t believe troubles are all there are

Life is a madman’s laughter to those who are wise

Don’t believe that laughter

There is more than the laughter to hear

Life is like a small bite of bread

Anyone can reach for it and though 

The bread might provide a meager meal 

Don’t believe bread is all you may eat

We look at life through 

Cracks in walls and say

I have seen it!

[Don’t believe you are seeing it all] x2

*      *     * 

[The moment in which you can believe

When you are pure of body and soul you can see

and the suspicion and chaos which terrify you

are held at a distance, many miles from despair] x2

When we look at life through the eyes of Love

That’s when it’s truest and we can believe

For a life without Love is a meaningless one

Life is an immeasurable concept 

Without love, no different than death

Life filled with love and in love with Love

A superior Love, one which is humble 

[Is declarable, determinable, and clear] x4

Love, on the downhill of an occurrence

Coming into love on the downhill of an occurrence,

Is an untold mystery for the ages. 

Coming into love on a downhill means:

Not me, but others encourage me

to pretend I’m a Romancer

by reading someone else’s poem

without fear of defeat,  

without the wisdom and vision on love.

Now—when I read my sacred poem

With my thunderous voice,

My poem empowers others 

And gives them a glimpse

Of what lies behind the mysterious veil.

-------

There is a summit

covered with ages of sunlight and snow.

When I see it, I see but the light and its warmth.

I believe that

Even if there is an occurrence

from which love is supposed to arise,

the kind that fills my soul

with its warmth and greatness

It will not come to me on the speedy and tempting path

of the downhill of someone else’s desires;

this occurrence is on the uphill!

On the uphill, no one can have a broad outlook.

On the uphill, everyone thinks for himself.

But I, on the uphill,

Can see the power, the joy of Romance

And can see all the elegant occurrences.

I can see them all.

The strength I gain from Romance

is lifted and placed on the loftiest spire,

For atop that most mysterious peak

Lies only the warmth and words of Romance.

The art of a genuine Romancer

is not to chase others’ desires

as they tumble down somebody else’s downhill,

But instead to leap forward, bound uphill on the path.

On the uphill, The Romancer submits.

Yes, I am submissive,

Eagerly awaiting commands from my better half,

From my Romance-mates,

And from Romance.