This is the house of Love, which has no bound nor end.


“They say, ‘What is love?’ Say, ‘Renunciation of will.’
’Tis love and the lover that live to all eternity” — Rūmī


Humanity is just
a dynamic encoding of light
into matter.

All the mass which makes us up
was once at another space in time,
which does not pass,
where it does not have to worry,
where it just is, before or after
it was pulled into another field
of being,
so that what is me will be you
and what was you will be me…

Such a glorious mess, this,
that we’re in - that’s in us -
a whole fiction in the form
of that most simple word, our,
and the long-dormant dream
that we come from, go to One.


Read the endless messages
we’ve left for one another,
piling up in moving mailboxes
made to make it seem run of the mill,
all these millions of lost lines
in old comment threads:

“You idiot!”

“I love you.”

“I hate you!”

“Go die…”

“I wish you had lived forever.”

“You will come to a better place.”

As if we have forgotten
to whom it is we write,
as if we could forget that
which makes memory itself,
as if we could bring ourselves
not to know what we know,
sharers of the first secret
- caught in contradiction -
celebrating still
every string of remarks
and all the unlikely electrons
which had to gather
for you to see me at all.


Wholeness and Fragmentation

Are unified by quality questions


I am lost without you