When it happens, our differences flee.
When it happens, wild stallions savagely rush out of our loins.
Gallopping into the pampas pacing to our desires.
When it happens.dumbfound .we stop talking.
Nostrils dilated. we listen to the throbs and pulses of each other.
Our whole body becomes our eardrums.

When it happens, the uncontrolable trembles.
At first, we feel it in one place.
then all over.
We roll upon each other-- in moans
We ache with pleasure
Volcanic storms sweep out from the Vesuve of our longings.
Our hands tightens.
 Making it into one hand reaching out for the same thing.

When it happens
Instinctively we turn our faces towards each other.
Mouth upon mouth our tongues tangle and devour.
Fingers clawing.clutching...we taste the tangerine light in our salivas.

Accrobatically
We lick the mysteries of variating nectars.
Licking every other parts of the body, our tongues attempts to find what our words couldnt.

Thus interuptedly
we ascend in oneness.
Above every miracle.

Forgetting the inscribed guilts
We listen to the unspoilt music in our bodies
Impaired with pleasure we falls from our heavens.

Laying silently
We watch the starlight
grateful for this tsunami.

Kabir, its raining

"The sun came out
And i was filled with radiance
- Kabir."

Kabir, your poems drip with sacred fire.
I feel a sweet shiver up my spine.
The timeless freshness,

words
Swirls down like lime tree blossoms.

Consciousness : 

is the only place i could stand
To open the pages 

of your book. 

A pageless book of silence.

Word by word
quietness embellished.

Words,
no words. 

Only this deep growing quietness.

Gently touched 

the buds in my heart
Spreads into petals.

This is how your poems work.

Kabir,
My spirit flew around you
Returning
Wings wet with the moonlight.

every word in your poem
A secret key to a heaven.

Heaven , you say

isnt where gods live 

but it is where understanding happens.

Silence me Kabir,

the same way 

the moonlight silences the night.

And ah
when it rains in your poems

The rice fields sways. 

The forest murmurs.
And Rumi dances.

Rumi dances
The yearning to understand the vanished.
The joy alone of his footsteps
Fills my soul .

Kabir, its raining.
The rice fields are now in your poems

When light touches you.
Each little thing inside us turns towards it.
The sunflowers of the body, golden and upright.
Obeying to that which is melting down from the skies.
The bones in our bodies engulfed by a silence ...that fills every element around it regardless where it stands.
I felt this again as the moonlight fell.
My heart broke down into happiness.
Over and over
I became the night
My breath too was the night...
My breath : the only thing that moved.
When light penetrates you
It silences everything inside you into deep universal listening. You listen with your whole body,. Silence is a name given to point out the language of your soul
Just as what you call healing is only another name for your fullness.