I don’t know.
One day to the next, like a weathervane.
Today, I think I’m a Zen renunciate.
Tomorrow, I’ll be a poet again
Mad with life and singing in the fields.
The day after that?
I don’t know.

Yesterday, deepening into memory.
Today, spiralling out in bright colours,
An explosion of Self everywhere.
Who is in there?
Who is in there?
What is your name?
I’ve been Tom, Tani, Coyopa.
Hirons, Alexander, a King - all of them.
Slept rough on concrete,
Buried my head in the woods.
Known my wings,
Felt the fluid centre of my brain.

One day, I’ll get it.
Before then, I’ll give up getting it.
Who is in there?
Great nameless madness of wonder;
Crushing gravity of Soul.

This morning the sun was warm on my skin.
First time since Winter began.
I was delirious with pleasure
And hope flew round me, dancing!
The wind changed and the clouds came over:
Now it’s icey cold again.

Buddhist, Taoist, Sufi, Christian.
Muslim, Atheist, Heathen.
Jew, Zoroastrian, Heretic.
Red, yellow, black, brown, white.
It makes no difference.
That first touch of Spring
Will make you mad for life.
If you don’t laugh with joy,
You’re already half-dead.

Today, the earth began exhaling.
All Winter, it held its breath,
Kept its fragrance to itself,
Held itself so tight, I could feel its ribs ache.
But, today, the earth began to smell again.

What had been locked in its chest
Began to push back out at the world today.
Soon, primroses and garlic will follow that
Path of life’s breath into sunlight;
Now, it is simply the shifting, vital moment
Between the inhaling and
Exhaling of the Earth.

The fingers of Winter loosened today;
That tight hand will become Summer’s palm
Where all of Life dances:
Myself and you and us and them
And all tomorrow’s children.

Somewhere, in the centre of the Earth,
A spark leaps to the hibernating heart
And beneath the blackened leaves of Winter,
That great, essential drum resounds.

Today, the earth began to smell again.
The sap turned around; life turned towards life.
The body of this great, wild woman,
This land that grows through my feet,
Shifted in her sleep and sighed.
She whispered something unmistakable.
Everybody heard.
The trees and rocks and the wild birds and me:
All Winter we were waiting
And, today, the earth began exhaling.

I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:

Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.

Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.

Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one’s self.

O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:

You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.

You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.

You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.

I know the way you can get
If you have not had a drink from Love’s
Hands.

That is why all the Great Ones speak of
The vital need
To keep remembering God,
So you will come to know and see Him
As being so Playful
And Wanting,
Just Wanting to help.

That is why Hafiz says:
Bring your cup near me.
For all I care about
Is quenching your thirst for freedom!

All a Sane man can ever care about
Is giving Love!

Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in the stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
Not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables.
When you really look for me, you will see me instantly —
You will find me in the tiniest house of time.

Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.