grace in-pours from the fontanel’s open door
mirrored likewise at third eye on our forehead
heart the recipient with God at the oar
birthing magnetism where we’re by bliss beats led
so though receptive presence now keeps no score
love pheromones in each cell of form are bred
manifesting rapture of unbound measure
renewal continual which we treasure
why would we let thoughts soil
purity of bliss bubbles bursting
when we feel therein complete
though yet for wisdom thirsting
neither resisting nor seeking ~
we let God do all the speaking
cravings that arise when we are alone ~
in tranquil mindfulness we gently hone
we sense grace influx at the crown ~
stream of rapture in which we drown
petal by petal, lotuses open
bliss pierces each in-form body vector
the truth is by Divine Mother spoken
we ascend as a humble receptor
when all is one, of which node should we speak
yet we do for purpose of discussion
ego exhumed, there’s no energy leak
so Divine Mother plays the percussion
whence we then dance with Cupid cheek to cheek
as an appearance in this realm dual
propelled by magnetism, love the fuel
space flickers lifting the veil
whence in the void we set sail
wherefrom in time we return
held captive by love’s bliss burn
higher heart and crown are bound by a thread
channel for direct communication
there is no distance for lovers who’re wed
as refractions of God’s emanation
stillness in movement is where we reside
viewing shape shifting forms as wisps of smoke
one with light of God, deep in heart inside
spirit with which our consciousness we yoke
in and out of trance as we weave our way ~
rapture borne by bliss remains our mainstay
body is an experience centre
lower mind acting as an interface
so we but watch thought forms as they canter
as clouds in the sky we need not efface
wafting as they wish at an easy pace
and as for our senses externalised
they are silenced that God be realised
the problem was posed to no one
though seemingly addressed to us
but all doings are by God done
so difficulties don’t nonplus
oh worthy monk, there’s no one here
with identity vaporised
so with neither desire nor fear
what is there then to be apprised
our forehead glistens, inked with bliss
what’s there to be said about this
wondrous are boons bestowed by grace
joy brought by Divine Mother’s kiss
knowing grasped but not assimilated
sees myriad doubts rise unabated
a blush which we hush by thought cessation
returning back to bliss-meditation
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