unask

 

the bench

 

Are you looking for me? I am next to you, on the bench.
My shoulder is leaning on yours.

When you really look for me, you'll see me at once
in the tiniest fraction of time.

The seeker asks: what is God?
I am the breath inside the breath.

 

Kabir, transl. Tom Davis

 

 

Yorick

 

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
come; make her laugh at that.

 

Shakespeare, from Hamlet

 

 

 

roses

 

my love in secret
sent this secret to me

give me your self
give me your all

go like a wanderer
take to the road

walk calmly into the flames
burn without burning

burn, burn, as the
fire becomes roses

my blasphemies
are what god is

watch the glow of god:
see it mirrored in my eyes

 

Rumi, from Ghazal 2508, (re)transl. Tom Davis