Whispers of the Heart by Gail Gulick

There is an edge
where all things crumble
A silver strand
of waking peace.
We tread so lightly
to relinquish
those errant cords
of false embrace.

Those pompous claims
who split our substance,
Those clutching voices
of distant days,
Those staunch positions
who trap our essence,
Those nagging worries
who keep us prey.

We leave these all
to molder sickly
releasing Self
through sweet decay.
We come to know
our own deft urgings
and drink the balm
of love's bouquet.

I cannot hold
where glamours bind
our thoughts with pride.
I can but hold
this mirror gently
that we may glimpse
what burns inside.

Let us drink of the cup of kindness
wherever we may find it,
in a tender glance,
or a gentle word.

Let us drink so deeply,
of each small droplet,
until the ocean of our hearts
overflows with tender tears.

As this sea of kindness
swells from deep within us,
let us share the comfort we have known.
May we pour our own soul's cup of kindness
Into every cup where kindness may be shown.

Take Rest, Dear Ones!
There is no need for striving, no need for pursuing,
no need for believing, no need for resisting,
no need for proving, no need for denying,
Instead, just listen for that one soft voice within you, calling "follow me home".

Why strive for the death of the ego?
Would you aim to kill a starving child?
When we hold them like a babe
And feed them with kindness
Even the hungriest parts of ourselves may know peace.

Dear Ones,
I am here to kiss you with soft whispers of my presence.
I am here to caress you with the stirrings of each breath.
I am here to hold you in the rapture of my caring.
I am here to touch you with my infinite embrace.

Yes, I see you, and I know you, and all your many sufferings.
I am with you, always, from inception to each end.
Yes, I fold you gently in my ever-loving shelter,
In devotion, waiting, til you notice me again.

I come again to that poet's place in my soul,
That place from which I blossomed into flesh
That place to which my nakedness returns,
Breathing, in the language of the masters,
with grateful clarity

Oh how I long for that sacred presence
of my own soft beauty,
slipping sweetly though this one secret door
and following my yearning home

I live in this world between touch down and flight
This one holy moment,
Where formlessness enfolds us,
Holding us ever so gently, just
as we are letting go.

Great River
The greatest gift we can give another is to recognize their own brilliance, their own soulful heart, and their own earnest desire to love and be loved.