There is a sun-star rising outside form.
I am lost in that other. It’s sweet not
to look at two worlds, to melt in meaning
as honey melts in milk. No one tires of
following the soul. I don’t recall now what
happens on the manifest plane. I stroll
with those I have always wanted to know,
fresh and graceful as a water lily, or a rose.
The body is a boat; I am waves swaying against
it. Whenever it anchors somewhere, I smash
it loose, or smash it to pieces. If I get
lazy and cold, flames come from my ocean and
surround me. I laugh inside them like gold
purifying itself. A certain melody makes
the snake put his head down on a line in
the dirt…. Here is my head, brother: What
next! Weary of form, I come into qualities.
Each says, “I am blue-green sea. Dive
into me!” I am Alexander at the outermost
extension of empire, turning all my armies
in toward the meaning of armies, Shams.