furnace of joy

march 16

bangalore india

woke up drowning in a syrup of love. the smell of skin still damp and sweaty in the morning. the tangle of limbs. i taste his shoulder. gently trace the line of bone, shoulder blade under the soft animal body. the aliveness of my smell, taste, touch makes me feel more myself. a few days and i leave again. get in the aluminum bird and fly home, wherever that is. circling round the compass of my heart. i think of the tremendous and lush beauty that like a flower, is blossoming now in a fullness that will ripen and give way to something else. seed to flower, flower to seed. return again. i like a big life.

Joy does not ask you to be good, nor worthy

But Joy does ask you to weather the storms of suffering and self-doubt

to walk alone through the valley of the shadow of death

to watch in wonder as all your old dwelling places burn down

to make friends with the rascal sacrifice

to be able to withstand feeling moments of such intense yet fleeting pleasure

that it will split your heart open

like new wine in old wineskins

to hold more of what is your most essential self

like a clay pot, i submit to being tested and fired in the furnace of joy