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thief night

(yet somehow unexpected)
he arrived
the guest…
the heart trembling
“Who’s there?”
and soul responding
“The Moon…”

came into the house
and we lunatics
ran into the street
stared up
for the moon.

Then-inside the house-
he cried out
“Here I am!”
and we
beyond earshot
running around
calling him…
crying for him
for the drunken nightingale
locked lamenting
in our garden
while we
mourning ring doves
murmured “Where

As if at midnight
the sleepers bolt upright
in their beds
hearing a thief
break into the house
in the darkness
they stumble about
crying “Help!
A thief! A thief!”
but the burglar himself
mingles in the confusion
echoing their cries:
“…a thief!”
till one cry
melts with the others.

And He is with you

with you
in your search
when you seek Him
look for Him
in your looking
closer to you
than yourself
to yourself:
Why run outside?
Melt like snow.
wash yourself
with yourself:
urged by Love
tongues sprout
from the soul
like stamens
from the lily…

But learn
this custom
from the flower:
your tongue.