I.
There is a wind within a wind, a wheel that sleeps in a wheel that sleeps in it.
My love is like a green field and I am like a green field laid for her.
Flight of white birds, river of light, silence
Carry the messages of our existence to That
Who is all around.
The wheel sleeps in the wheel that sleeps in it.
Night falls and we ascend the ethereal skies.
There are no two, there is only the gong of the moon.
Strike it to release –
Flight of white birds, river of light, silence
Carry the message of our existence to That
Who is all around.
II.
To be silent with you in the listening night with the stars above like witnessing eyes and the breath of the infinite blowing over the Pacific Ocean,
To be so silent as if speech is a violation of some unwritten law though there be not a soul to enforce it except the silence itself;
To be silent with the dim street lamps the lighted windows the unmoving palm trees the cacti like still birds that can fly only in dream;
To be silent with the bright roundabout and the lights of Santa Monica and all the tireless commerce of the world like a faint sweetness at the edge of memory;
To be one in silence with the One the chanting waves rising and falling like a marriage hymn beside the fire of silence;
To be silent together in the one not the one which loses itself in limitation but the one which finds itself in infinity,
A touch of the fire of eternal silence dissolving us and preserving us, two and one.
