We lifted lightly off from one
as two, spiraling, slowly at first,
widely spiraling, higher, higher, swirling
past each other in the narrowing circle of
meeting again and again, and in this dawn-pink
atmosphere of Love, O Darling mine, we ascended
ever higher, and Your Face, Beloved – That Smile, so much
Transmission of the Knowing, Submitted, Beatific Smile of
Ramana, but You, Mashuq, Exquisitely and Serenely You, and as
we passed each time my poor heart nearly fainted in such Radiance of
Your Loving, Smiling Regard, and You Knew, as You Know Now, This
Infinite Bliss of Being, Unspeakable, for You Are That, and as we
Met at that zenith, the Epitome of This Dance, so perfectly
Choreographed by the Supreme Hand of Very God, the Great One, the
Dancer, Dancing, Dance Itself, the Beloved, Allah, the Most
Heartbreakingly Beautiful, Divinity's Form, Merged with the Most
Pristine Emptiness, It's own Reflection, and in That Union,
That Re-Union, We assumed our Universal Form in a Mushrooming,
Blossoming Atomic Expanse of blinding White Golden Light, Unbearable
in It's Intensity, incomprehensible in Its Fullness, Mystery Revealed
to Itself, Unbounded, without any barrier in space or time, and It Is
Love, so Nakedly Plain and Present, and suddenly You were shaking
me gently and inquiring: "Honey, have you ever beaten egg whites with
a fork?"

LoveAlways,

b