In my meditations, sometimes I sneak into the warmth of souls, like a curious and joyful child to reap herself in verses in the fields of an inaudible singing — shy Light in its yearning to experience its love and exist.
In this poetic daring of mine, wouldn’t galaxies, stars, beings, particles, elementals, souls and angels — like wildflowers dotting the nakedness of this blown landscape — be dense and subtle manifestations of that same Light giving birth for the innocent joy of recognizing itself?
I embark now on a naive metaphysics when dancing in the waves of the sea of diversities, where the dense longs for the subtle just as the subtle longs for the dense and, dancers that they are, they intertwine, as they are intertwined in their intentions, in their love.
Thus, in the coherence of this cherished encounter, I weave the rose of who I Am with a neon line that insinuates itself, involves and dares to captivate time in its solemn reverence to this immanent flower, which now surrenders to the kiss of the winged invisible being.
Would it be us — human beings — this bending of time, the ecstasy of this ephemeral kiss? Would it be us physical and spiritual beings in the desecrecy of their fleeting intimacy, spinning eternally intertwined memories of their consciences to discern and to expand in the free flow of the waves of this sea of contrasts?
In the overjoy of this temporal fold, then we would be Light in body and soul, we would be Presence, we would be the purest intention of Love smiling at us.
July, 2023.
Maris. 