the field

in the fields the fire grew
everyone is fighting to put it out
(except you and i)

how can there be any other
immolation than this?
than this gaze that brings stillness
across a thousand lives.

i love your hands of slavery
it is the touch of death—
everything you touch is a slow torture
that cannot separate sand from sand.

this constancy is something
that allows me to die
one thousand times…

no matter how the body moves
how it ages
how things change
i remain immovable…because of this

i adore you more than adoration
even the knees of adoration makes herself weak.

there is stillness in the moon
yet everything fiercely moves within
as ether is your breath
there is always room for more

there is vacancy in your heart
where no one has lived before.

when i arrived
i could not leave.

i always live there, no matter where i go

i become like sand that can not be shifted
from sand.

for this i love the slavery of your hands
; slow torture that is life—which tries to change
all things:

it is life that tries to tell us that we live and die
it is life that tries to separate the sexes
it is life that says that your are rich or i am poor
it is life that says you are wed and i am alone
it is life that says you and i are imprisoned by differences

for this reason all living is a lie
for this i love the slavery of your hands:
which move and work to do things to obey time.

in your obedience, i see nothing has changed
for the single life within you is also mine.

to others we seem to live and die
but when we see each other it is all that is alive

regardless of enemies of the body that speaks
and then offers no more

it is a cruel world when speech is withdrawn
like food from a table

why do people deny one another
everything that truly exists?
and what they give to another—
is filled with decay and remorse?

this constancy that i feel
escapes the enslavement of the mind
the game of the body
the rules of time.

this thing that i feel
i can look into it all day
and even when i take my eyes off her
she is always in my mind.

—

About this poem:

This is the experience of union and dwelling place between self and divine love. It describes the experience of how love has found itself in the body; and becomes a slave to conditions. Stripped of conditions; the self sees only a reflection of its own perfection. This perfection is a stillness that cannot be immolated by fire, earthly suffering or time. It is the same self that persists throughout humankind; all of life’s unfoldment is a replication of the same image.

Lines:
“i love your hands of slavery
it is the touch of death—”

Meaning: the soul is a slave (obedient) to the body, which humiliates itself as it pretends to be ignorant.

The process of Living is a form of suffering because the body does everything as an act of love; and because it does not know how to express it, it is a slave (limited) and is ignorant.

In this ignorant expression is an image of love, which one admires, and in part of that admiration, experiences compassion (understanding; recognition) in witnessing an expression of this suffering.

This Suffering being: (under the veil of ignorance) lies an effort to know or realize true reality; truth of a situation or love.

“Touch of Death” means a surrender of the Ego to relate; and to feel.

All (experiences of) Love contains this “touch” or feeling of death…it is a dissemination of ignorance or veils of reality (which the Ego fears to part from; its own delusion, hence when released, experiences the Love often found in Humility—which is the ultimate gift and sacrifice).

—
Lines:
” that cannot separate sand from sand.”

Meaning: constancy; the self cannot be separated from the self.
—
Lines:
“to others we seem to live and die
but when we see each other it is all that is alive”

Meaning: people live in illusion…but we are the reality
—
Lines:
” it is a cruel world when speech is withdrawn
like food from a table”

Meaning: it is cruel how people decide whom they should love (who deserves love or how love is defined between what beings; what kind of love is right and wrong and how it should be parted or defined). It is demonic to bring love to Legislation (poetically or literally), for God denies no crops to differentiation of creatures or sizes.

—
Lines:
” and even when i take my eyes off her
she is always in my mind.”

Meaning: Loves is not an emotion, an Ego that says “I have love, I have not, I feel or I do not.”

Love in its Purest form—is a condition that firmly is implanted in the Mind (in the Heart or Seat of one’s Self) despite death, decay or karmic changes that turn (take and give) lives over each day like a new leaf. It is a state that is free of condition, essentially.
—
Homage:
In reflection and thanks to the embodiment (realities) of the GITA, for the lessons of “the field and knower of the field.”