I have traveled afar

     To find my heritage.

          In search of those kings and queens

              Of tanned skin and dark roving eyes.

When I found a roving band,

      They lit their candles and lamps.

          Spinning tales that were old

              And rich in lore and fantasy.

I was born with the look of a traveling man;

     Traversing this land of meadows and mountains,

           Seashores and cities. And, I never

               Found gypsy kings or queens.

Just satin and lace,

      Their horses wild and cattle dogs nipping at the herds.

           Rolling on wagons decorated with colors and symbols,

               And their eyes looked through you, to the find a fellow traveling man.

An open canoe nudged reeds and sand,

She kept to herself the pleasure he provoked.

The undercurrent dimpling as he stroked,

And drifted, slackly moored under his hand.

Turning to him, she let him loose the knot,

Drop the rope, and push his foot against

The pier to lift her free.

Her muscles tensed.

He took her like a sail the wind had caught

And guided her until she guided him.

And, when they were no place that either knew,

Where sky and sea and shadow echoed blue,

They plunged; and were pushed to the world’s rim.

All night the sound persisted,

     Again falls this quiet, ever-present rain.

What is about me that must be remembered,

     Insisted upon so often?

Is it the unease,

     Even the hardness of rain falling will have for me?

Something other than this, something not so insistent—

     Am I to be locked in this final uneasiness?

Love, if you love me, lie next to me.

     Be for me, like rain.

The removal of the tiredness,

     The semi-lust of intentional indifference.

Be wet with a gentle happiness,

 Embrace me with your grace.

By being being nothing you are everything. 

By wanting nothing you are eternally full of grace.

When we realize who we are,

     We no longer have this endless confusion,

          This eternal battle with ourselves.

Thus, we no longer struggle with others or the world. 

Never oppose anything or anyone.

Instead, choose to express and manifest

What is true for you.

Do not try to find yourself
     Or defend yourself
          Through what you do.

Instead, seek only to express
     Your highest knowing of what you are
          Through what you do.

I heard you call,
     Answered,
          And became the calling.

I thought I wanted love,
     But, instead,
          Became the loving.

How was I to know
     That desire awakens, and
          Becomes the desired?

Awareness woke up me out of being fused with form.

The fictitious me is an accumulation from my past. 

All that accumulation becomes this ME object, sense, whatever label I can attach. 

Only by dispelling this accumulation does the oneness present itself.

It is, for me, not the joy of attaining a state, it is, rather,

     the joy of utter relief from the struggling and the seeking.