Today is a day of love, or at least a day in which we recognize and celebrate that which exists in every day.
Instead of trying to come up with ideas and descriptions on my own, I thought I would let those who so eloquently speak the language of love do it for me. (images taken by myself or my husband unless otherwise noted)
I ask only that you open your mind for a few moments, to breathe in and out, and to feel the love of which these poets speak. Self love, love for another, love for all, love that goes beyond words.
Desse Barama (Peace)
The world shines about me,
luminous as the moon, smiling like a rose,
and a sweet benediction
flows through everything existing.
How beautiful life is.
I marvel at people who are not in love with life.
You, my girl, are beautiful,
and your beauty,
like the beautiful thought of peace,
belongs to the eternity.
Detest war and destruction.
When you go to the riverbank,
and the sun sets in the evening,
the waters of the river will be rippling softly,
and from a distance, in the twilight, you will see white sails.
A song of the boatman will come from there.
'Today no suffering, no suffering.'
The world shines about me,
luminous as the moon,
smiling like a rose.
by Hamza El Din
Some Kiss We Want
There is some kiss we want with
our whole lives, the touch of
spirit on the body.
begs the pearl to break its shell.
And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild darling!
At night, I open the window and ask
the moon to come and press its
face against mine.
Breathe into me.
Close the language-door and
open the love window.
won't use the door, only the window.
by Rumi. Translator: Coleman Barks
Img attribution (Flickr Creative Commons): http://www.flickr.com/photos/socialspice/5713714538/
The Moment Before
I want to touch
the sharp taste
of the moment in between
the second just before
the place where
the breath catches
It's the scent of heat held in the air
between two mouths
reaching for each other, hungry.
The shine of moisture on slightly parted lips
it melts into
the wetness of the other.
It is the skin that tingles
fine hairs at attention
It is the places that have not yet been touched
but know they will be.
It is the smooth, quivering paleness
of the inner thigh
as the outer is stroked and kneaded.
The muscles of the abdomen tightening
the back arching slightly
There, in that moment
do not take your eyes from mine.
I am here
Do not touch me and keep your soul
out of your fingertips.
Die into me
or do not come into me at all.
Ever after is in this moment
happily or not.
Sacrifice the daydream.
Dare to hold the desire
for a great love.
Be with me.
Oriah Mountain Dreamer © 1995 from Dreams of Desire
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.
-by Mary Oliver
In deep love of life,