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Nothing but the yawning deep
Of the desert sky at night
and my love and I entwined
We lie suspended on the ceiling of world
Under Varanasi silk, on a pillow reading ‘love’
Mountains swell around us and
What was below is seen above:
The ever-adjusting locus of the real
Honing its focus into pinprick points of light
That took a cosmic lifespan to travel and alight
At last in these impossible eyes
Filling them with wonder and
Unbidden tears, delight, surprise:
Oh Sirius, O, Sirus,
The secrets must abide in us,
We the only steady ground,
And we get lost just to be found
By Melchizedekan masters with the voice of a child
Buzzards and jackals and the call of the wild
All intoning the same words:
Be, humbly. Gaze deeply.
Wander in your own way
Far from the braying herd
(Negev, Israel, June 2016)