There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far too deep for that. In one well You have just a few precious cups of water, That "love" is literally something of yourself, It can grow as slow as a diamond
If it is lost. Your love should never be offered to the mouth of a Stranger, Only to someone Who has the valor and daring To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife Then weave them into a blanket To protect you. There are different wells within us. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far, far too deep For that.
TIRED OF SPEAKING SWEETLY Love wants to reach out and manhandle us, Break all our teacup talk of God. If you had the courage and Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights, He would just drag you around the room By your hair, Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world That bring you no joy. Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly And wants to rip to shreds All your erroneous notions of truth That make you fight within yourself, dear one, And with others, Causing the world to weep On too many fine days. God wants to manhandle us, Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself And practice His dropkick. The Beloved sometimes wants To do us a great favor: Hold us upside down And shake all the nonsense out.
But when we hear
He is in such a "playful drunken mood" Most everyone I know Quickly packs their bags and hightails it Out of town. From: 'The Gift' Translated by Daniel Ladinsky
Two Giant Fat People God And I have become Like two giant fat people Living in a tiny boat. We keep Bumping into each other
The Vintage Man The difference Between a good artist And a great one Is: The novice Will often lay down his tool Or brush Then pick up an invisible club On the mind's table And helplessly smash the easels and jade. Whereas the vintage man No longer hurts himself or anyone And keeps on sculpting Light.
To Build a Swing To build a Swing You carry all the ingredients To turn your life into a nightmare - Don't mix them! You have all the genius To build a swing in your backyard for God. That sounds like a hell of a lot more fun. Let's start laughing, drawing blueprints. Gathering our talented friends. I will help you With my divine lyre and drum, Will sing in a thousand words You can take into your hands, Like golden saws, Silver hammers, Polished teakwood, Strong silk rope. You carry all the ingredients To turn your existence into joy. Mix them, mix them!
A Potted Plant I pull a sun from my coin purse each day. And at night I let my pet the moon Run freely into the sky meadow. If I whistled, She would turn her head and look at me. If I then waved my arms, She would come back wagging a marvelous tail Of stars. There are always a few men like me In this world Who are house-sitting for God. We share His royal duties: I water each day a favorite potted plant Of His-- This earth. Ask the Friend for love. Ask Him again. For I have learned that every heart will get What it prays for Most. From: 'The Subject Tonight Is Love'