Always,
Enjoying,
The Perfume of the Beloved.
Even with eyes open,
Here,
In the world of form.
Even with Attention moving,
Here and there,
In “mundane” activity.
The Extraordinary… Ordinary.
The Ordinary… Extraordinary.
Always, ever,
Intoxicated,
By the Ecstasy that She is.
When Attention rests,
She is there,
Pulling at my Heart.
Always whispering,
Always touching,
Turning my face to Hers.
She exists in me,
As me,
And I in Her…
And… neither.
For “we” do not exist
At all.
There is only…
This!
Chuck Surface
Photo: Peter Bowers