LOVE AND LOVE
Where did our true being come from? What calls it into sight now? The same thing: Love and love. No imitation can come near it. If I mimicked the quality that makes day what it is, I’d be a very poor sun. To night, I’d be a failure as a moon. If I copied a swan’s song it would do no justice to the death it sings for. Even a rook’s tuneful caw would be beyond me. Things must be and do for themselves as they are meant to. But show me your eyes and I’ll sing like I, the true being that I am. And your warm self will rise to mine in my words. I’ll be no other than I am, I’ll call for no one’s voice but my own, not in life nor in death, when I have your love.
And again I could imitate the violet hue of the flower, the rage of the wind, the wisdom of great men, the laughter of the few who really know how to laugh. But can I rephrase myself? Can I imitate what I am? To do so would be to make me less than I am, and there’s no simple way to do that. But with love in the fold of my arm – your arm in mine – I’ll shine like all the stars of heaven on my world.
So love is the parent of our true being and nothing else will satisfy the heart. I can’t be the imposter of my own light or mistake the lining of it for the real thing. The self is what I am, and Love its only cause, creatorless yet called up into sight. So if we love we’ll make the world shine and hold its true being in our shining eyes.
Now is the time to find the true being, to know what called it up and where it comes from. The most important thing of all cannot be mistaken or imitated. We can’t be in any doubt about its origin or what brings it into view. Light on the Page would like to help with this.
Song (For H.)
If I mimicked day I’d be a poor sun,
to night an unsatisfactory moon.
If I sang like a swan I’d fail death’s call,
if I cribbed a rook’s caw you’d spot the fake.
But show me your eyes and I’ll sing like I,
let your warm self rise to mine in my words.
I’ll be no other, call for no one’s voice
but my own, in life or death, with your love.
Shine
I’d imitate the violet on the flower,
the rage of the wind in starless autumn,
the wisdom of great men in careful words,
the laughter of the few who know to laugh.
But to paraphrase myself? My own name?
No simple way to be less than I am.
With love in the fold of my arm I’ll shine
like all the stars of heaven on my world.
Eyes
Love is the parent of all true being
and nothing else will satisfy the heart.
My self cannot imposter its own star,
or take the lining for the light inside.
I am that self and love its only cause,
creatorless yet called up into sight.
So if we love we’ll make the world shine
and hold its true being in our shining eyes.
Best wishes, today,
Landar
© landar 2010. All rights reserved
