It is amazing to me what has become of my work. It makes me weep now in thanks and wonder to think about it. It really all seems so beyond me. Some of it has reached millions of people around the world, and continues to reach many daily. And some gets linked to influential people who help it to become more known, as I wrote about in some recent blogs that delved more into Ekhart Tolle. And gosh, gosh, there is dear Oprah with an endorsement of my anthology: Love Poems From God, on the book’s page on Amazon. And this link connects me to Rilke in a way that I want to talk about. 

I just came across it for the first time recently when searching that Hafiz poem. That is: I really don't keep any files of all my published poems on any computers I have used for years now; but can often find them via an internet search.

About this link from above and that Hafiz poem, and Rilke: the Hafiz poem as printed there is missing six lines above the last stanza of 3 lines. But the essence of the poem is there, and presents some of the wonderful and unique imagery that Hafiz can, and often does. That poem in full can be seen on page 20 in my book, A Year With Hafiz. 

And I like a lot some of the Rilke quotes on this link, and how this blogger connected Hafiz & Rilke, like that one quote that ends with: “... to find ... words.” That is a reference to find the right words, or inspired words that may then be valued by others, and the real process a writer may have gone through to offer them. 

Words, written words, have been my life most every day, as I am doing right now, for over 30 years. I’ve published 7 books with Penguin, and (must be over) 10,000 unpublished poems, though many of those are a free style haiku; as well as a great (I think) play, still in the works, titled: Michelangelo the Teacher; and children’s stories, and a footprint now in more books than I will probably never ever finish myself, or may never become. And now working on some Buddha books; and a website with two gifted poets we might call: 

A Buddha A Day Haiku

And I plan to announce and explain that project in my next blog, that will be titled those five above words. But for now here is one line of a Buddha rendering I did from some verse in The Dhammapada I so like: 

There is no wound knowledge can't help.

—Buddha

I do love that line. I think it says soooo much; and is so true! And is one of the remarkable values of spending time around a true teacher, or looking into the eyes of (or being touched by) sacred scripture, or poetry from the soul of the earth and sky. The poetry in an angel's wink! O yeah, in an angel's wink— that will always try to help, and can only, only speak of your beauty!

And here is a sample of a free style (linking) Buddha haiku; also crafted from one of the chapters in one of the several versions of The Dhammapada I have collected for years now:

That beautiful mountain*

   no longer leaves 

       my eye ... 

from looking 

    upon all 

       with kindness

— Buddha

*beautiful mountain: God

Yes, yes, kindness: 

What a beautiful mountain! Kindness, what a great power and great gift.

So how do all these words and ideas happen, and what is their impetus? I think I could really only go into some extended details (and experiences) with someone like Carl Jung; or a very evolved spiritual teacher. Though, in part an answer could be: I saw a Divine Sun, a Magnificent Light, breathe into me and pass through my every cell to such an extraordinary degree & extent. And now I seem to be able to rather endlessly exhale words and unique images onto the page.

I know, I know I have just been a packhorse in all this for some kind of manna I was filled with, and now try and cook and serve the best I can. 

The hand will give in proportion to what the eye has seen.

That is a Hafiz line in the poem on that link above. I think that says a lot about art. One gives what the eye has seen, and the heart has felt. 

And to keep all here more grounded, well sort of, here is a little freestyle haiku I wrote the other night and sent to my agent; as I really don't file anything anymore. Sometimes I playfully post something like this on an international spiritual web-chat site I am connected to, and then might blame it on Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), who was really wonderfully wild in some ways. Or on Jack Kerouac (who I don't think would mind) ... and later confess. This one went: 

with the moon 

  so amorous tonight

    where is there to go?

If I ever read that one publicly, I would add to it: 

Where else is there to go?

Or, what more could I want or need? To me the verse is about seeing something of such beauty in this world or in the sky that:

seeing that dancing moon*

   asking me to dance

     where else to go?

* dancing moon:

Catching a glimpse of Buddha or Krishna or

Jesus, or great beauty, or your true Self, in your

heart and with their arms ever open. Indeed,

“where else then to go?"

And something Hafiz once wrote:

l love when beauty makes me desireless, 

other than just wanting to gaze at you.

“At you,” anything I can love.

And another great line of Buddha I rendered, and in some real ways is at the heart of Buddhism, and all esoteric paths:

Sit until you know. Or at least know more.

For indeed: 

There is no wound knowledge can't help!

Or you could say: There is no cage knowledge can't help dissolve.

OOO, OOO, all this just goes on. For it seems the Rose can ever unfold.

Venus is a bird

   in a cage

     but she is happy 

In this cage of form, may we laugh and sing. And our walls thin so much we know of love, like every goddess.

Rivers join, and hold hands on the way 

to the Ocean. Rivers join and become

stronger.

— Hafiz

Maybe a playful, whimsical aka to something here could be:

The moon and I tell each other lots of secrets over a 

second glass of wine. After a third, all chatter stops, and 

we are just rolling naked through a meadow in heaven. *

*I am going to let my agent-editor make the call on this above four line paragraph. If you see it, thank or blame Melissa. (I say that, but we all know I call the shots and would protest vehemently if she deleted it.) 

OOO,OOO indeed, true about the Rose -God, ever wanting to open before us, and reveal more and more of our sublime Intimacy with everything. How could one ever endure eternity without that? 

And there is a vein on a petal of the Rose, where the Ganges flows with Revelation! Hafiz, is such a Ganges of the poetry of light and utility.  

Read this one slowly and out loud if you would. It would then truly be like marrying Hafiz a bit. And how could you go wrong there?

How did a leaf fall over that sunrise in you

and cause a tear? 

How could a leaf fall from a tree and cover

the golden mountain you are?

My words will help lift it. Otherwise I would

never speak.

The moon's tender light upon your body is one 

of my thousand vows to your soul, and a kiss.

— Hafiz 

No wonder Hafiz has been cherished for centuries, for he does— he helps lift the veil. He helps the Rose unfold in you. He offers a smooch we can pawn for freedom.