The Way

No words can describe what we are
And yet, Love seems to reach out (and in)
To experience its Beingness..

So tender, so sweet
Even the tears refresh 
And cleanse
What needs no cleansing..

Nothing is needed
And what is
Can only be This,
Right here, right now..

Somehow it's just right this way
The only way,
The way which cannot be circumvented,
The way that moves the "you" and the "me"..

And who's feet can avoid this path ?

And who can say that This, in any form, should not be ?


daj said...

ahhhhh...the truth speaking itself...but 'What is it?'...the hands type, but what are hands?...new eyes will see landscapes anew, but what are eyes and landscapes?...if there's nothing left on which to stand, there is no standing and no words to hold the concept of standing or not standing.....he he, it would be a mystery if there could ever be such a thing!

Julian Parker said...

If its somebodies feet it is easy to miss the freshness, or to be so stuck in cement that the vastness of the universe passes you by.

Mary said...

Beautifully expressed, daj, thank you for your comment!


Ernie said...

Space like present awarness being everything. No-thing being everything. Being nothing (more subtle than space) and being everything. Nothing to figure out because there's nothing to add to this infinite space. What else? It's so easy; so fun; so full; love-ness being everything.

What to do?....come on!!

Julian Parker said...

The boy is swept off the beach by a huge wave, never to be seen again. The wave and the sea and the beach and the boy are still one. Yet we stand looking out to sea for a lifetime searching for the boy. It seems impossible to avert the eyes.

Mary said...

...and the boy is none other than what is looking for him...


Julian Parker said...

Searching for love in love

Bob W. said...

This is beautiful poem. Thanks.

Bob W.