Minnow In The Womb Of Night

The Beloved takes your hand and leads you up the path from the base of your spine to the crown of your head. This path is made of crushed diamonds, so fine it is a mist, a cloud, a morning breeze, a sigh...

Every step is love. The Beloved is nearer to than your name. The Beloved's touch is the stillness between heartbeats. Why have you not taken this path, this wedding walk from belly to brow, from Self to Self?

Because you thought you would find the Beloved in an ashram, a temple, a cathedral, or a mosque? You thought you would find the Beloved on an alter, in a book, a pair of sandals, a white robe?

The Beloved wears only the soft cloth of your inhalation. The Beloved is a vine of roses on the trellis of your spine. The Beloved is more inward to you than your lost rib.

When you were swimming like a minnow in the womb of night, the Beloved sang to you from every star. That song is still inside you. You are still inside that song.

Do not look for the Beloved anywhere special. Wherever you are, just listen, and dance.

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