Can you breakdown your understanding into bits and pièces.
Though you
might find comfort in doing so.
It might even make it easier for you to situate yourself in the space you have chosen.
Therefore
You chose to call it the heart. ..
because You Feel comfortable to gather it through its emotional path
You are convinced that the essentiels are, when your emotions have been moulded by it.

You might even want to divide it
You might want to overlook its intellectuel side which you might considèr as something that renders it dry.
But can understanding be understanding without all the unity of your heart, mind , soul , body .

What is it that
silences your conflicts.

Know this. It is all set down To flow with the oneness of This universe

your own oneness, unseperated from it.
To use the understanding you are given ....to summon resolutions
To anything from a banal daily life's problem... to the ultime mysteries preoccupying you .

Then
when your own nature is in the natural  flow of Life
Understanding Will be a part of it.
A part of your healing .

Everytime you understand something
A part of the universe reveals itself to you. A part of the healing reveals yourself to you.
You will know it sponteneously

You will find your whole body breathing with it.
This is Thé 'wholeness' in which you have been created .
And everytime you connect .
your music tunes to it...

Through it
you are tuned To the ragas of the earth and sky.
Thé language you will use will only add  to the soothingess and humming ....
as if it is the same voice coming out from the depth of the forest...
like a Call of bird
or a growl of a lion.

And
As one sheds out
the cry transforms into the song.

And the phéromones rises to célébrate the body ,the mind , and everything you might to place in that one single dance.

Mithuna - the erotica the poetry  ..all swaying...illuminating all that the society wants to concern.
Denying the explosions and implosions of création.

What is felt
hits you everywhere with the fists of the kundalini
breaking down every bolt that has shut the portails of the fortress
wherein  the system has imprisonned You...
your chakras turn
and aerate your inside as if your being has been transformed for the God's
 to come in and dance. Or whatever it is that which has made us humaine

I held back. afraid.to touch you.
Afraid you would flee
And you would nt see me again.

I held back words that might have frightened you.
I bit my lips so that they wouldnt escape into a disaster.

I decided
the best thing therefore was
for me to run away

carrying
all that was aching inside me.
Aches that took birth everytime i saw you.

But Here.

i Feel safe in my poetry

Opening
my secret yearnings
like the petals of a rose.

Only the fragrance betraying the deeply arroused feelings.

Half green and orange, the pumpkin fields.....

You drove me to the ocean;

 the sky was blotting grey; undecided whether or not to rain....

The only sunshine was your blonde hair flying in the breeze.

i could feel every little thing that settled around you.

Every little thing that settled around you came from the forest,

from the herbs,

from the waters,

from the native songs of your land,

from the snow laden peaks,

from the wings of an owl,

from something far away.....

from so far away

That,to notice i

had to squint into the unseen 

to see

what came from other skies beyond my human eye.

You carried the savage untamed silence

with something melancholic in your joy....

....Or was it the other way arround ?

Looking at you i was lost....

Lost in the voices of a forest..

i realised

that whatever you had borrowed 

you borrowed from its unfanthomable  spirit .

i would have liked to ask you more about it, but, it became silent on my lips.

i resigned to the idea that it was far too ancient for my reach.

Late afternoon,

we sat on a rock, like two wolves in the faint sun.

we watched the distant waters ripple - till it rippled in our hearts.

Together -  we clutched each other tightly, to muffle its cry

 we held each other, we held the ocean, we held the thin threads of our silent souls....

our bodies clad in a single bark of a tree...

leaning,

learning,

...learning the meanings of leaning.

Our skins birthed in new odours of us

 gathering our feelings,

New flavours

 of us, tasting the taste of each other....

we inhaled, every little newness

the satisfactions in long breaths and silences.

Surrendering quietly,

our quietness becoming a language

 in which everything transformed into the simple smile on our faces

just as it was so

in the core of everything.....

' Language ' -  shinning in the dark of our eyes, intensely.

Silence - glittering with feelings.

So we looked at each other - gazing into our smiles

till the heart understood everything without staring for the truth in words.

'This understanding '- will return to hug us again....one day.

One day when we'll walk in sorrow

somewhere

alone

and our footsteps will be the only thing we shall hear....when

Yesterday will swell - like a large unfallen teardrop

not yet ready to leave our eyes.

How else can i say this...
As the sacredness of silence yields...the secret of words
lays in the yearning to pray;

Prayer : not as a call to God,
but a moment of surrender to the quietess of this universe. A need to disolve into something thats greater than hope or joy.
The need
not to ask, or implore or beg.
As if in each day's sunrise breaking through the crust of the dawn so overwhelmingly  one saw his own rebirth.
perhaps we do not realise but indeed at each dawn we are born
to fill ourselves more abunduntly than what our eyes can show
and take the opportunity to be beautiful.

Know this that no priest can tell you this
but your own heart; when it has travelled through the ceremonies of its solitude,
 through the deep woods of human anguish
and for the first time becomes aware how alive Peace is...
To receive it... the body has to release itself to an intense stillness.
A stillness
that is not forced upon by any technique
but as a spontaneous response of your entire being.

Re writing C Bobin in vain.

I place both my hands in your emptiness
pushing them a little bit further.

Tingling,
as i touch to grasp what is within you.
Behind closed walls of solitude where the magic of your being awakens
In the most discreet silence.

i touch what is absent in the books.
i touch what has been absent in you for so long.
i touch the laughter of your childhood
Of a time when eternity and you met life with the same bewildering eyes.

A frivolous shadow of dangling branches, the movement of the winds, the drops of rain,

the white feather in the snow,
Waiting
for your childhood to come along
to pick them up in a casket of souvenirs.

i now touch this particular moment
when joy came through the holed roof in the barn
to join the red in your blood.

Light falls on haystacks
poems giggles
in your
glittering eyes.



The bright golden particles of dust floats
unwinding
like threads from the lustrous dress of an tiptoeing Angel
thats your childhood the adult in you cannot see now.

What can the unmystified adult,
in a reductionist world of explainations
convince.
what your carefree childhood heard from the mornings....???

Can they understand the silver traces in the deep blue skies
pouring sweetly where my hands touches yours.

My hand touches yours where the sun strolls
leaving the simplicities of life
the beautiful inner metaphors of your Soul.

We dont need to talk so much
Hugging your silence
I hear enough
The perfect word elevates if i listen

By understanding your silences
I have understood the whispers of this universe.

Sweet september the sunshine this afternoon is so gentle.
Gently falling on my dark brown skin. 

I feel it playing all over me.

Warm ripples. The very same breeze ,
very light on the leaves ,
lightly moves inbetween my nakedness and my orange clothes. 

pleasantly
i witness this well being
so graciously offered by nature.

That i could lay all afternoon beneath the soothing branches of the pinetrees.

And in a perfect pindrop --the quietness

The language and sensations are one.

i have stepped out of your mind ,i  ve step into Gods mind.

Everything poetic enters the state of my consciousness..sweeping me into self contained quietness.

And-- i would barely move from here, but pursue to listen the quiet thrust of life. 

Thudding.

Its almost sensual in its oneness.

The loins of the earth and mine are one.

I expérience a feeling of wakefulness.

When the spirit and the body entwines each other spontaneously and deeply , the streams of consciousness carries you to the very source where life throbs.

 You throb to the very throb of the universe , and you can feel the stars breathing on your face. 

The sun and moon sinks into your pupils and stays there....

as you look around you, its not you who look through the bliss of this solitude, 

but the sun, and the moon ....

in ignition, 

attentive enough to unscathingly illuminate as if 

the lamps of meditation expels the noises of thoughts.