Work of Silence

Do you want to do the work of silence?

Do not do.

The work is to dissolve.

Above all, do not fall in love with the doorman.

No affairs with the gatekeeper!

Even if the guardian at the threshold
appears as Lord Buddha, or Jesus,
or the elephant headed boy, remember,

The Guru just holds the door for you.

Pass through.

The Prophet and the Prophetess

are only the butler and maid.

Give them a tip as you enter, or a little kiss,

but pass through
and do not do.

The doorway is very low and you'll have to bend

so you don't bump your head

on the lintel of your own sternum.

Find the hollow beneath your chest,

just above your belly.

It is night when you arrive,

the darkness between breathing
out and in.

This darkness is also a door,
the formless portal everybody passes through
as they are melting,

the gatekeeper, the pilgrim, the wanderer,

rich and poor alike.

In the silence of annihilation is a tiny flame

with an aura gold as the sun

and a red hot body

with a cool blue heart.

Pass through that dot,

which is the last door.

Of this gate, you yourself are the keeper.

All gods, saviors, and messiahs

dance around it like moths

with crisp burning wings.

For them it is a catastrophe,
for you a liberation,
the infinitesimal amethyst sky.

Trillions of cells in your body awaken,

every one a door,
each with its own bell, its own radiance,
its own syllable of praise.

The earth bathes in the music of your tears.

This is the work of silence.


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