The Cup

                                                 

I am the cup of astonishment.
You are the wine of silence.
Whoever pours You into Me
I call Friend,
Breath of my Breath.
Each electron in my body
is your Radiance, 
the space between them
your Love.
I Am nothing but You.
No need for a Master.
Just thread your gold umbilicus
from the farthest star
through this pearl in my fontanel,
piercing my lungs,
weaving the weft my ribs,
down belly to mothering compost.
Am I not your loom?
Let the spindle of the galaxy
wind the soul out of itself
to a radiant sun
rooted in my sacrum.
I will not be dizzied by 
the tricks of light.
Splendor is only a door,
open, empty,
neither inward nor outward,
above nor below.
At the center of this eye
what roseate solar fire
voluptuously trembles,
luring me into the stillness
of a diamond Christos
who reflects all faces
weeping and smiling?
All I know is, I've come home,
darkened by the fall of love,
ten thousand heavenly worlds 
in one weary heartbeat.

 Image: mural by Augustin Frison-Roche, Cathedral of Saint-Malo