Not With Wings
Not with wings,
And sweating brows –
Reaching out to comfort this world
Drawn from your vast reservoir of Truth.
Not with your eyes and senses
On the earth’s sweet stumbling dance
Which needs you.
With your mouth tender and open upon your lover,
To the souls of rivers, children, forest animals,
All the shy feathered ones and laughing, jumping,
On this holy battleground of life
Who are calling for a sacred drink,
A gentle word or touch from man
They are already content.
With aching minds and guts,
The rare courageous thirsts
That can never be relinquished
Leave your recipes in golden drums.
Who will keep circumambulating the worlds,
To all our tender wondrous spheres.
Find your happiness, dear wayfarer,
So sweetly opened,