|Inside myself I breathe|
the fragrance of the Friend.
In the garden last night
an urge ran through my head;
a sun shone out of my eyes;
an inner river began to flow.
Lips became laughing roses
without the thorns of existence,
safe from the sword of decay.
The trees and plants in the meadow,
which to normal eyes looked fixed and still,
seemed to dance.
When our tall Cypress appeared,
the garden lost itself entirely,
and the plane tree clapped its hands.
A face of fire, a burning wine,
a blazing love, all happy together,
and the self, overwhelmed, screaming,
"Let me out of here."
In the world of Unity
there's no room for number.
But out of necessity number exists
in the worlds of five and four.
You can count a hundred thousand
sweet apples in your hands.
If you wish to make them one,
crush them all together!
Without thinking of the letters,
listen to the language of the heart.
The color of purity
belongs to the creative Source.
Where the Beloved Sun sits,
my verses line up like willing slaves.
Version by Kabir Helminski
"Love is a Stranger"
Threshold Books, 1993