The pure drop:
that famous mystery,
so simple it confounds the seeking mind.
Jesus called it many names:
the hidden treasure, the lost coin,
the precious pearl.
That secret place where there is no need,
no suffering, no trouble:
the dove spot of white peace;
the perfect, playful happiness of a little Buddha.
We all carry it within
as it carries us in Holy Presence:
embracing our suffering,
our human dreams of separation,
our slow, painful parting from those we love,
while holding, as a white stone,
the unwavering vision of our return home.
How can there be anxious care
in perfect trust:
this quality beyond words,
this Yes beyond yes?
What is there to ask for
except to drink the cup
as freely as it is poured,
and to taste on the tip of our tongues
the sweet release,
the trembling end of trembling,
the pure, round, liquid
drop of Light
that Light drinks?