Did No One Tell You?

Merely by resting in your heart
you soften one thousand miles
of space around you.

Those who come near you
feel the touch of wild cotton,
the radiance of seven pearls
threaded on a sunbeam.

Their souls begin to orbit your belly button.
They enter your invisible garden of Presence
and somehow taste those blood-red seeds
from the pomegranate's core
without gashing the husk.

This is why you must repose
in the golden shrine of your chest.
Let others make the haj.
You just need to be more hollow.

Supreme attainment is a mind
that no longer seeks
because it has dissolved
into the erotic splendor
of the void.

Let this exhalation be what pours
from the libation cup
offered by a dying warrior.
The triumph is surrender.

Let this inhalation be
the Beloved's sparkling kiss.
Welcome home, dear one!
Did no one tell you?
Your breath is the name of God.