The luminous fool
never gets tired of three things:
drinking wine from his own breast,
reaching the goal with the first step,
and running his fingers
through electric fur.
This is why he prefers the company
of animals to angels.
Now get good and lost
and you'll wind up at his hut,
where you'll knock on the door
and he'll answer, "Who's there?"
You'll say, "It's Me!"
and he'll reply, "Go away,
there's no room in here for Me!"
So many more righteous lifetimes
you'll spend praying, fasting,
giving alms to the poor, until one day,
weary of your goodness,
you'll wander back and knock again.
"Who's there?"
"Nobody."
The door will open and he'll
hug you with fierce joy,
uncorking your heart to share
a sip of that dark vintage
you've been aging in your chest
since the birth of light.
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