Love Song is meant for the seeker and the lover. It is designed to ignite the heart. This book draws you in and reminds you of a way of being that most of us don't opt for consistently anymore. The words invoke an experience of ecstatic love and oneness through honest introspection and vulnerability that is intimate and delicate and rich with imagery. Open it to any page and see for yourself.
love song
Poems & ProseBy CybeleTrafford Publishing
Copyright © 2012 Cybele
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4269-9004-5Chapter One
This book is a love song to the God in you.
Let these words seduce you into your Self. Let the sound of them drum off the tongue and pick at the iceberg that now encases your heart. May they stimulate courage. Nothing can hold us back when we are no longer afraid to trust.
Lose all the notions you've held so close.
They have no meaning now.
Lose them and meet yourself in this dark.
Everything you've ever most deeply wanted
is already yours,
is with you in one form or another.
I will dance with you here,
out beyond desire.
Because there is no well, I become water.
Because the heart of this world sleeps,
I have chosen to be the awakened spirit that lives its
dream.
Instead of remaining hungry, dear one,
become the nourishment you need.
What would you be willing to do for oneness?
There are times my loved ones ask me to do things I was not designed to do. I am a heart. I cannot detox for the liver or do the heavy lifting of bones. These have to learn the joy of accomplishing such feats themselves.
I am your center, your soul muscle that works tirelessly on your behalf. I enliven you. I remind you that you are worth every effort. Recognize my importance in your life and yours in mine, and together we will become far more than a body.
My soul is a stallion waiting in the gate, restless to give its all for you.
This wide-open and hollowed self, a common reed, noted for her divine music.
We are each instruments. Lean towards God's breath. Let the song that fills you be this empty, this full, this free.
I have made Love my God.
Sure, there are other gods to worship.
We all know them:
Substance, jealousy, greed, distrust, deceit,
pride, nostalgia, security, omnipotence, seduction ...
If you sway in their direction,
good luck with that.
I've knelt to them many times
on many occasions.
It never worked!
Such fleeting satisfaction,
such mediocre benefits.
The God I've chosen and I
kneel to each other,
divine mirrors,
ecstatic mutual servitude.
A life of service
is a life of joy;
Giving without condition,
the ultimate freedom.
Arrive inside this moment and meet yourself.
We are nothing but phantoms till we approach this table, surmise that it is safe, and sit down to eat.
This laden bounty is all fruit of the One to which we belong.
Breath is Her gift.
Unwrap its treasure.
Inhale and experience the gratitude that is resident to your heart.
How patiently she sits, awaiting visitors.
How attentively she watches the door, listens for any sound, awaiting you.
If this is slumber, don't wake me. I want to be a moth to this flame. There are flashes of lightning in my heart that the ground in me swells to meet. It is a total annihilation welcomed with every cell. Waves of passion overtake me. The eyes close and the head tips back to greet them. It is the sacred dance of homecoming, the new blending itself into old in the ritual manner and all the curtains opened wild and wide to the wind in utter surrender, speaking the words, move me, move me with this love you feel. Touch me like I want only you, only you to do. I am here, yours, present and ripe, with utter and raw abandon.
Let love feed the deep hunger. Let love finally salve and heal the wounds you say it created. God will never make a mess. Only that which isn't love topples this milk carton. Love in her richness bends to lend a hand. There is always a door home though we must decide to walk through it.
You are here to help me awaken. I am so grateful. I see that every act on your part no matter how kind or cruel is a conspiracy, at times unbeknownst to even you, that invites me, calls me to love myself no matter what. You come with God's voice and God's listening to what my soul needs. You know me psychically, implicitly. You know past knowing. The medicine you are, without understanding, without intention, is always the perfect gift. Thank you.
Reconnection with your soul requires my surrender. It takes silently stopping, pausing even breath, to gather the internal forces I've allowed to stray in divergent directions. I invite their reverberation back into this moment where you have left yourself behind. To embrace this reality of whom you've chosen to be, this other, this non-existent self, is to claim my greatest strength and breathe in life's most excruciating pain. To live here in this Presence, this peace, with or without you, is to love you unconditionally. Thank you for having abandoned Love, an excellent, perfect choice. It has been a tremendous gift, my most challenging opportunity yet. I am here, resting, breathing, unwilling to worry or mourn. I refuse to take your absence seriously. You will return eventually as we all do. Not because we must. It is simply who we are. When this game of choice ends, we relax back into the Self. Patience finds its purpose and its reward in this ultimate homecoming. All paths lead back to the One we are. For now, swing it however you like. Go wild, mosey, meander, even lose yourself deep inside the mind if you wish. Diverge and digress! Explore the sacred choice. God will ring the bell that calls your soul home in perfect time and at a pitch you are promised not to miss.
I perch sleepless and watchful, awaiting my own willingness to show up, a straggler at tonight's affair. I watch for it to resurrect itself and burn off the fear I've let settle around my heart. I'll wait up all night if I have to for the real me to arrive all fresh with evening's air and light with God's twinkled laughter that glints in my knowing eyes. I so dislike this experience of longing for the God that has always, as now, offered Herself to me in the same moment I opt for self-deception and pine for Her. It is a bleak game that spirals in a sloppy misguided fashion. No longer myself, I disconnect so that I can reemerge somehow different, melt down into a more humble version of myself. Why do I listen to that other inner self and take on her notions that bring her to a wall and keep her there? Why do we humans so often make choices that we know won't work? At the core is a mental refusal to love ourselves, to know ourselves as enough, a conundrum that shapes our lives and our world. Meanwhile, birds are conversing loudly about their daily doings, entirely aware of and totally undeterred by global warming. Meanwhile, grasshoppers groom their insect wings and don't consider being falcons. They don't contemplate going airborne. They just do.
No one has morning breath like a river.
It smells of mountains and many miles.
It is betrothed to the willows and riparian
flowers.
Let the mind become oxygenated.
Let it move and meander in Love's gravity.
I will devote myself to you for the rest of my life, no matter the form. The God in you is the one I worship. Your body lays itself across my mind, under mental fingers that yearn to soothe. I want to be that one to caress the quiet hours with you so close that you are my breathing, that the tide inside me has swells that you originate. Utter stillness is the love I have for you and I want it for only us, only our silent pull into each other when it is you and I and this oneness in the early hours, slumbering in God's tremendous cradle.
We see ourselves as such fragile beings and in our perceived fragility we can turn so vicious. We will only put down our daggers when we tap into our true grounding and get in touch with God's invincibility through the practice of self-love.
We come to know God through self-love.
You come to me in shapes of sorrow, the love you would not claim draped carelessly to the side. Would it take so much that you would not bring yourself to release all the dread, to strip the clothes of uncertainty and bare thin skin of marvelous, vulnerable truth, beauty beyond all other? Would you really deny what is yours? You are a beauty hidden in shrouds of guilt and shame. My love for you remains, unflinching and unclaimed.
Separation is the dream. We will never be separated, you and I. Not by the myriad tales of your mind, not by the winds that blow miles between us, not by life's epic lessons that are at times excruciating. I am here, one with you. Always. All else is illusion.
God is a wind that rushes through my heart.
I release it as it arrives in me and send it out into the world stamped with my signature.
God is a letter written in my own sacred love for you.
The blessing and the curse of it is that the game is rigged! There is NOTHING you can do to get God in me to stop loving you.
Beauty rings with the voice of a thousand
different bells
sounding outside my morning window,
reverberating from within.
It wafts over me,
singing in the faces of the day.
Even here in this small café,
chords are being played.
Some swim in this music,
their movement in synch with the tides
of the moment.
Others sleep through the symphony of
their own making,
unaware of the joy that calls to them.
Most distract themselves with what isn't
to so great an extent that it deafens
them.
These are the saddest I've seen.
Friend, listen ...
It's been a long time, yes.
Do you remember how to trust?
It is as simple as turning toward the music.
Each new interaction is your complement.
Harmonize.
May we each become the masters
of our own songs.
Take hold of this instrument that you are.
Play its rhythm with all your might.
Few in today's world
know the experience of gardener and soil.
Often, these two
are no longer in harmony.
What is your garden like?
Have you acknowledged its depth,
evoking green buds and gods of life?
Keep tilling.
It will ripen
and become sustainable enough
to cultivate you in return.
It is the primal home,
the house of resurrection.
I speak from here,
the earthy hummus,
the dark origin of things.
God is my gardener.
She turns me over
and exposes innards to Light.
She digs holes and plants seeds.
She hallows weeded areas
and fills me with fertility.
Lusciousness I am becoming
and could not be without Her.
She dwells in me,
nurturing such a space,
it will be able to feed sizable worlds,
and leave layers and layers of livable love.
Here I sit atop this tree that sways and takes its root inside of me. I came up from soil and spirit mixed. Thank God to be neither only one nor only the other.
You who invite my eyes to lift
themselves continually beyond their
own
horizons,
you who are the reflected pools
of green that are a shifting sea inside
me,
you've taken my heart like a
brave white bird into your hands, raised
them up to the world and
opening
them gently,
wistfully,
and then
with
definitive grace,
set
me free.
I say I am available and I am. And then a wind picks up and rattles me and I claim to be distracted. I say I am distracted and I am. And then someone questions me and I let the doubt surface. I say I am afraid and I am. Fear becomes me and I claim to be drowning. Am I? All there is to do is surrender. To doubt no longer, distract no more. To love whom I love when I love and say so out loud when it serves and be still when it doesn't. The only dialogue to have is Love. Love of the God, love of the Self, love of the Us, living in me.
Our bodies are
beasts untamed.
They lash out yet
long so to be
loved.
The hunter strikes
hungry for oneness
yet looking for meat.
Feed upon me, those that are lost.
Have your fill.
May all that I am
remind you
of all that you are:
Pure divinity as yet
unspoken.
Tame the sorrow.
Love it and speak.
Wow. Sometimes it is so hard to trust Love. Sometimes, it just looks like the craziest business ever.
Would you tell a butterfly to emerge from its cocoon before its time?
Be tender with the ones curled into themselves. They are either healing or are refusing to.
You are the dream I love. You are the dream I wake to. You are the dream I live. I breathe you into me and feel the humility in me bow itself down to the ground and kiss our shared feet. The earth is the treasure that raised us up. We resemble our tender mother whom we do not worship and who continues to serve us anyway. You are that goddess nurturer, the one that brings plates of dates and seeds and fills my cup with blessed ecstasies and intricacies of being that are a complex array of beauties for me to admire, admire the rest of my beloved days. May you no longer refuse to greet Her, to know your earthy side, to embrace the one who is the curve to your hip, the roundness of lip, the one that looks exactly like my love because she is. She is dirt and rhizome and she is juice and ferment. She is the hunter, the forager. She is the lost lover hungry for splendor's touch. She's the wild glance, the tear, and the hand that knows exactly how to convey the most unspeakable gift, the ultimate need, the enduring desire, the love so great it turned itself into form so that it could sing its own name and experience its own song.
I want to start a conversation with you about God that never ends. I want my words to be as lips upon your ears that have been so hungry for a mouth to say just the right thing in that particular tone that soothes the oldest hurts. I want our topics to shape themselves the way your chest dips inward toward bone and lays your heart out so near the surface, exposed and remarkable. In this exchange, breathing you into me is common currency. It's my plentitude. It's my splendor. And in this conversation, your body unfolds and steeps itself in me like a warm and quiet bath at dusk. And when we are tired and seeking rest, stillness will take up the dialogue for us, singing God's favorite melodies to us as we sleep.
Sometimes from the mind's perspective, there isn't enough love to go around. We either give love to others at the sacrifice of ourselves, or we make others "pay" for our self-involvement.
There is another way of experiencing this issue that takes care of everyone:
What works best for one of us spiritually ALWAYS works best for the whole. And vice versa.
In this way, everyone is taught the key to joy: that giving and receiving from love are interchangeable facets of the same jewel.
Throw away shame. No pattern can be truly broken with shame as its motivating force. You will suppress perhaps, but never heal. Love is the Great Alchemist. Where shame is a fire that destroys, Love is a fire that resurrects. Breathe and release the grip of self-hatred in one hand, unworthiness in the other. Feel what it is like to trust that you are always worthy and always lovable.
Evil does not exist, only the illusion of evil. The mirage made real by our minds is a choice made by each individual to experience his or her life without Love. It does not have inherent power. It has only the power we each give to it. We can release from this "only human" perspective at any moment just as darkness must always give way to Light. Live with Love or without Love. Both actions have their reactions. That is the game of life: To love or to fear and to reap the harvest of either.
There is a `you' that spins webs of angst and catches fears inside it to consume when hungry later. And there is a `you' that picks up the fabric of this human experience with both hands, unravels it into divine thread, and weaves it back together, a blanket of soul that enwraps this world and heals it. Which you would you rather be?
You are the night that encompasses and you are a new wilderness for me. I am exhilarated, then afraid, then flying. I long for you and then retreat. You are the unknown that is so veiled that I can stare and stare into it and cannot adjust my sight to see what comes next for us. We are the love that carves away until it finds itself deep inside rock and bone and a brave willingness to stretch inside the heart.
No addiction is worth the loss of us. The current that takes me to you is release, a letting go of my illusion that you are gone from me, that I could somehow be absent from this magic that we together are. Nothing can keep me from this, the reality of merging. All else is an intentional forgetfulness, a pretense that is the centerpiece of suffering.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from love songby Cybele Copyright © 2012 by Cybele. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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