There is a silence between births
when the heart becomes a sacred flame
and the belly uncoils
which reminds me
of how remarkable it is
to awake beside you another day.

Between deaths we've met
between breaths
in that stillness which
has joined us ever since.

In that first breath
we entered each other --
never exhaled --
and danced unnoticed
through the void.

There is a path in the woods
which opens into a green clearing --
there was one bear scat there
and lion tracks
and pools cradled in the rocks
where we go for a cool drink
from Buddha's belly.

Every once in a while,
stiller than air
an old ponderosa whispers,
"You are the bride of the Beloved."
The sacred everywhere we turn
and turn again --
an intermingling of our senses
which reveals ourselves in each other
at the far end of perception
where the mind becomes the heart
and form dissolves so generously
it offers entrance to the mystery.

When you are eaten alive
by the Beloved
you are wed again
with nothing left to do
but be
there for each other
here in each other.

At this wedding there is nowhere to stand
where you are not beside me
where you do not accompany me
within.