I used to talk to sunlight. I would whisper in his ear. Sweet nothings. And he would whisper back about the migration route of arctic wolves, the secretmost intimations of krill, the giggling of school girls.
I spoke with the ocean shore. I stamped out syntax and word with my bare feet, Leapt high for an exclamation, opened arms wide for interrogative. She replied with pounding crashing of surf and the sighs of wave and sand’s relentless union.
I spoke with the grass and it told me of its seduction of poets. It gossiped about the secret life of ants, imparted the hidden meanings of Abulafia.
The ant carried my message deep into the earth and minerals sent telegrams with encouragement and advice.
.
“Who you chose to spend time with speaks everything about your love. Thorn thicket people. Glass bottle people. Fashion magazine people. The people called Encouragers of Waste … and…..
Self Protective Imaginings.
Do not stay three days in the house of anyone who does not fear the movement of the clock’s hands. Do not be fooled by Joseph’s torn coat or listen to negative gossips about Majnun.
Instead, go ask the baby how it knows to suckle the breast. Go ask the sunflower how it knows to turn toward the brightness. Go ask the Lover of Truth why her heart and mind race toward the teacher.”
.
And so I did. The baby said “Listen.” So I closed my mouth. The sunflower said “Deeper still.” So I closed my eyes and ears and heard the sound of the stars movement, the golden mean, the first letter. The Lovers of Truth said “This is only a beginning.” So I sealed up mind wanderings and stood alone in the nothing.
………..
An ant crawled along the edge of creation and void and dropped a telegram from deep earth. It said:
"Listening is fruitless unless it becomes a fire. Silence and Love become a furnace burning away the dross; sunlight is all that is left. If you want to know what fire is then go and speak to Layla ." - The telegram was signed, Gold.
I went to Layla to ask her the secret of this silent fire but merely the sight of her face and my Heart burst into flame. The hidden meaning of names was revealed and syllables opened my confusion .... The Love Bird flew into the sky.
Now all that remains is heaven, I have become the ink on the telegram, the paper, the reader and the author and the open sky.
I spoke with the ocean shore. I stamped out syntax and word with my bare feet, Leapt high for an exclamation, opened arms wide for interrogative. She replied with pounding crashing of surf and the sighs of wave and sand’s relentless union.
I spoke with the grass and it told me of its seduction of poets. It gossiped about the secret life of ants, imparted the hidden meanings of Abulafia.
The ant carried my message deep into the earth and minerals sent telegrams with encouragement and advice.
.
“Who you chose to spend time with speaks everything about your love. Thorn thicket people. Glass bottle people. Fashion magazine people. The people called Encouragers of Waste … and…..
Self Protective Imaginings.
Do not stay three days in the house of anyone who does not fear the movement of the clock’s hands. Do not be fooled by Joseph’s torn coat or listen to negative gossips about Majnun.
Instead, go ask the baby how it knows to suckle the breast. Go ask the sunflower how it knows to turn toward the brightness. Go ask the Lover of Truth why her heart and mind race toward the teacher.”
.
And so I did. The baby said “Listen.” So I closed my mouth. The sunflower said “Deeper still.” So I closed my eyes and ears and heard the sound of the stars movement, the golden mean, the first letter. The Lovers of Truth said “This is only a beginning.” So I sealed up mind wanderings and stood alone in the nothing.
………..
An ant crawled along the edge of creation and void and dropped a telegram from deep earth. It said:
"Listening is fruitless unless it becomes a fire. Silence and Love become a furnace burning away the dross; sunlight is all that is left. If you want to know what fire is then go and speak to Layla ." - The telegram was signed, Gold.
I went to Layla to ask her the secret of this silent fire but merely the sight of her face and my Heart burst into flame. The hidden meaning of names was revealed and syllables opened my confusion .... The Love Bird flew into the sky.
Now all that remains is heaven, I have become the ink on the telegram, the paper, the reader and the author and the open sky.
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