Awake

Perhaps you didn't notice how,

when you awoke this morning,

you took your first breath

in the next dimension,

having shifted to another world

where atoms vibrate to a different Law.

It doesn't matter anymore

if you are on the Left or Right,

Christian or Muslim, a do-er
or non-doer, of the North or the South.

It doesn't matter anymore

whether you see One or Two.

You need not wear a veil here

in the softer daylight where

the only authority is Presence.

The tribe you once belonged to

leaves no scent.

The glow of your essential oil

anoints the meadows now,

greening branches, thickening fur,

the hungry ones who need a touch, a tear,

no longer drawn by your beliefs,

but by your musk and radiance.

It matters not what movement you join

or which master you follow,

as long as she is the one who descends

through your breath, blossoming

in the splendor of your chest,

and you rest in your hollow,

in your core of healing silence,

this formless flower that keeps

opening its golden cup

of overwhelming fragrances,

distilled from the dark furrow

that runs down your body.

Arise and come, begin your task.

The whole earth thirsts for your light,

dear love, the way it rainbows

through your face like no other.

Hear the new song flowing out of you:

“Chitananda Rupam, Shivoham, Shivoham:

I am the divine, I am the divine,
the very form of consciousness and bliss.”

Don't ask what work you will do.

Just keep listening for this music

in the heart of every stranger.

Photograph: 'Inward Beauty' by Kristy Thompson