In the empire of the living Goddess
there is no "should," no rule to disobey,
no path to follow. The way is dissolving.
Can the earth leave its orbit round the sun?
So I cannot take my gaze from your face.
This is the freedom of love's bondage.
Clouds look like a garland of thorns,
a crown of poppies, yet the sky is always
formless and blue. Invisible sap
puts on the glory of a hyacinth,
clear plasma takes the color of blood,
and silence allows herself to be wounded,
pierced by a wordless song.
Of course I could endure the Spring
without listening to a single sparrow,
then boast, "I am liberated from Beauty."
Yet I would rather drown in the blossom
of your eyes, because they chose me
for drowning. We are dead bees
in each others' goblet of raindrops,
slaves of unshackled sweetness.
Your emptiness feels like a baby's cheek.
I gladly wear the chains of longing,
just as my Beloved wears this body,
a dark veil around her breath.
If you don't understand,
you have never breathed.
Make mischief, drop your burden.
Discipleship is for donkeys and ants.
A Guru is for dumbfounded lovers
who leap like dolphins in waves of night.
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