Sitting silently,
in the garden of the Beloved,
evening comes slow.
Wingbeats overhead
in the orange glow
of a day surrendering to the night.
Colours and sounds
intensify in the timeless space
of an awakening heart.
Light breathes life into shadows
as it slips through the branches
and illuminates the temple
of the soul.
The Beloved comes
and sits with us awhile.
Such bliss is unknown
to those who do not stop to see,
who do not choose to dive
into the depths of their own souls.
Blessed are we
who sit at the feet
of the Guru
and listen to the song
of our own hearts.
