Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

(In) Love

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.

Be this.

 

 

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. 

 

Seawater

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. 

 

The moon

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

in anticipation.

 

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

just before

it melts into

the wetness of the other.

It is the skin that tingles

waiting

fine hairs at attention

reaching

aching.

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

begging

come here

quickly

slowly.

 

There, in that moment

do not take your eyes from mine.

I am here

awake

 

I am

reaching

to be

met.

 

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

 

  

 

Messenger

 

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    

astonished.

 

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,

Namaste.