Cup

Be a cup for the Friend.

Pour and be filled.

Seeking the Master’s gaze

and shattering your crown

against those soft brown toes

is not the path.

Just bring a little joy

to the brokenhearted

and break your morsel into

miraculous halves,

each bigger than the whole:

this is the wayless work.

How near is the Beloved?

The flame of a heartbeat

in your jugular vein.

Tonight your task is listening

to the vast black bell

of silence,

your duty at sunrise

rejoicing in a sparrow's trill.

Why does the earth spill over

with wild poppies,

tiny forget-me-nots

that each contain the sky?

Because you are awake.

Don't try to understand.

Just be a cup for the Friend.

Pour and be filled.