True Nature

Still, silent fallen snow
Snowmelt
Sparkling droplets collecting in dancing streams
Gathering to a river
Cascading over a cliff, the waterfall
Churning in a pond at the bottom
Surging again down, whitewater
Finding the plain, fanning outward
Deep, still lake

Lake and waterfall
Which is more wet?

How much must a lake try to be still to be more wet?
How much must a waterfall move to be more wet?
How long must the waterfall try to sit still to discover its nature?
Where shall the lake go to find its true wetness?
What is the nonsense of “more wet”?

Like this, I am wet with the Beloved.
This body glistens, weeps, flows.

Still, silent fallen snow
                     In my stillness, the Silence fills my deep places
Snowmelt
                     Heat rising through my core, permeating my blood,
                     Melting muscles, dissolving until my very skin shines.
Sparkling droplets collecting in dancing streams
                     Following the subtle surges below the surface,
 Gathering to a river
                    The flow toward release begins.
  Cascading over a cliff, the waterfall
                    In the crashing, pounding swirl
    Churning in a pond at the bottom
                  The Beloved and I ride together,
    Surging again down, whitewater
                  Merge again and again and again
             Finding the plain, fanning outward
              Through waves of ecstasy
               Deep, still lake

Neither committed to stillness of lake
Nor bound to movement of waterfall
         I am wet.

             Wild
           Ecstatic
             This

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