Just Below The Heart

 

Just below the heart

and just above the solar plexus,

to be precise,

is a temple in the valley

of grace. And here,

two fingers' width

in front of your chest,

to be precise, is a flame

that does not burn

but gives sweetness.

It is like cotton spun

from fibers of starlight.

All triangles point here.

All equations are balanced

by the breath this space holds.

The constellations, those beasts

of silence, gather to drink

from this spring

which Jesus called the well

of everlasting life.

Milarepa called it the jewel

at the center of the lotus,

this flower of the Self

that falls in love with its own

bee-drowning fragrance,

this jewel whose ineffable

proportions

drive mathematicians mad

in search of beauty.

Perhaps the name of "Krishna"

will draw you here, perhaps

the name of "Jesus,"

or the secret name of the Goddess

born on vapors of surrender.

All such names are just the sound

of your heartbeat.

Listen, listen like a wanderer

searching for an ancient friend.

You won't comprehend this music

until you gaze into the mirror

of your own longing.

 

Dedicated to my friend Otto Raich and his students.

Image: Gaze of Devotion, from SanctifiedSouls