If you love your friend go to him
Surging and strong not from a whim
That dissolves at the slightest touch
Into wind and air, nothing much.
The fibre of your human heart
Let it be your exquisite art
So that when you two join and meet
You birth a world with depth replete.
And when, again, you part and go
Each one on his way, high or low,
In each you’ll grow a sacred thought
Its cordial wine with fondness fraught.
With many words and expressions
you explain yourself
baring out your heart, your soul,
and what you’ve been through
to friends, and yet,
hunger keeps gnawing at your ribs,
thirst keeps stirring in your mouth,
“They do not understand.”
Then a person walks in through the door,
with the grace of moonbeams enters
through the midnight windows,
and suddenly, swiftly,
without warning or reason,
your soul springs out of your chest
and is utterly taken,
overcome by His radiance,
prostrated before His sword.
In this silent communion,
in the joy of this presence,
Soul is a warm stream
gushing, permeating, soaking
to the core,
Soul is the shoreless ocean,
its serene waves
are the lips of this open embrace.