the light we are 9/15/17

I first met you in the eyes.

everything before that was irrelevant.

hearsay, premeditated projection,

but then I met you, eye to eye.

I expected billboards of camouflage and cover,

stare-outs from loss by expectation’s ruse.

but no, there were dimensions,

binocular beyond my myopic dream-world.

where everything sightable

was having a sense of body-heat presence.

I had to shift within myself to see into you.

rarity that it was, I felt welcomed.

what should have been defining

was only expansive and unfolding.

an inner world was alive and inviting.

my sight from within you, touched me.

I could only expect that kind of intimacy

from the deepest sense of love imaginable.

but no, straightforwardly and consuming,

looking into you was knowing myself differently.

it was a mirroring that gave me self wisdom

where gratitude became unquenchable thirst.

how do you know me so well from within?

this is embrace from the inside out,

yet with no space for grasp, no means evident.

I have tears welling up for no reason.

whatever my vacancy was from before,

has now passed through me as gone.

this kind of aliveness is as magical is childlike.

I now have no history, no story for cover.

what I know of you is reflected back as me.

how is that possible?

it feels like an amnesia that I am waking from.

are we individual persons?, life is aglow.

all my lives of the past pass through me now,

not as summation but as a receptive wisdom.

coming upon next things is without edges.

nurture is without positive intent. it just is.

your eyes have no backdrop.

my seeing stops being just sight.

yes, I have sight but now it has raptures as dimensions.

a river passes out of me that I swim into it.

distinctions gave way to comprehension as embrace.

all solids become fluid, and all fluids comprise.

there are no edges but only laughter at the muse.

and to have had thought as the white cane of existence.

looking into your eyes never leaves me.

observation is now a force of bloom.

ignited we are of the light

and deftly so, but in the subtlety of serene,

for as the light we are,

we are only the existence of passing it along . . .