"Love is strong as death."
~Song of Solomon 8:6

Mecca? No haj.
You are already there -
Allah's swirling gaze returning
to your eyes through a golden rose.

Jerusalem? No pilgrimage,
only the gesture of the moth wing
settling on a white dahlia.

Benares? Even the flutesong
of a scarlet tanager passing through
these woods can lead you South
to Shyam's intoxicating garden.

Rome? No need to go.
So very gently, like waves on sand,
Christ comes to you as this breath.

Love is not a journey but an opening.
Rest in the meadow of never arriving.
In each tear of dew, the wild anemone
has already captured the sun.

Wander where a sigh goes,
to the edge of silence where
there's no need to leap.

No need to leap into the dark
because the dark leaps into you.
Perish in that amazement.

Any infinitesimal point
in space
or time is a well
that overflows
with elixir,
with wine
more savory than death.

Wherever you are, pilgrim,
rest here, drink this.

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