Guest Authors
Taoli-Ambika Talwar & Ron Starbuck - Poets - Authors - Artists
Voices
Two Poets – Two Souls – Two Spirits
Weave
Ron –
weaves back
Become what you weave, even now
you are woven together reed by reed,
you are the master weaver of yourself.
We have more questions than answers,
but the questions are wise? Must we not
ask first, before knowing?
Like the self, the wind has no name
and it has many, who the self is
comes and goes, changing with
the wind from moment to moment.
Our selves are many, they are legion,
they move through the wheel
of life, samsara, time after time.
What is time except an abstraction
of the mind, an illusion only, one we
may come to understand? Let us ask
wise
Vyasa or Ganesha, do you not think even
they would know?
There is always a story within
a story, a tale within a tale.
What do they teach?
Let us look toward the shining
archer Arjuna, Vishnu the unbeatable,
unblemished friend to Lord Krishna.
Did not creation burn from within
Krishna?
Yet, in his wisdom was he not a trickster too?
What can we know and discover from the ancients?
To look within, as did the Buddha or
Christ,
to empty the self, let go of all suffering and
desire, is not this wisdom?
Only in the silence and stillness
of time, beyond all time, may
time redeem time and the self.
Take one breath, and then another,
is not all time held in one breath?
Does not the stillness and space
between each breath, transcend
time? Here is the eternal, let the
heart be still, let knowledge come.
This is the path of wisdom, letting
go.
Being and becoming, the self knows
this, it is written, weave away with
bamboo and bark, with cane or rush,
with
each silver thread of your spirit gather in
such stillness, beyond all forms, formless.
Without fear or fault, with
compassion for
the self, for others, saving the world,
this is the Great Perfection, Nirvana.
Carpet Weaving...
Ambika -
Responds
Thusly, I sit in the
story
I listen: words come softly
like ripples like breath like life
unseen hands pull away
covers
I am still ensconced in
some strange phenomena
this must be the world
of
strange expectations
where longing is unmet
but by longing
enhanced
why this separation
another layer is removed
so thick like dust
packed
then loosely it scatters
in wind to the singing of chants
somewhere something is
holy
8ths broken into single tones
my body comes ripplingly
alive
gardens appear as if from
moon's
own shaft of light: is that you
playing the flute whose intricate
meanderings steal away
time
even I become not and whole
what shall I let go of
when I am but
empty-ness
even this to not keep
my breath is not my breath
my eyes not my eyes
my lips not mine my hands
but a conduit of wonder
More layers remove
themselves
so much silence begins the dance
nothing is still anymore
but this desire she
that drums
across wild windows of cosmos
winnowing like trees in wind
this song swings
through my heart
and I am swept into through
heaven's gate into these arms
this is utter knowing
no crime
love matrix so divine: my breath ours
singular unified whole
the threads then came
undone
you disappeared as maybe did I
so I weave the welcome carpet
in bamboo bark cane
rush bone jute
wool silk: music seals it whole. See!
it has stars, a chaos of constellations
Copyright 2012 – All Rights Reserved
Taoli-Ambika Talwar
Ron Starbuck
SAINT JULIAN PRESS, INC. © 2022
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