So, we’ll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.
By Malinda Meadows
She dropped like a fish into a pond
Hidden from the crying man
We’re being judged he said
When the girl with the name of light
Became one with tao
Flowing into water
A million blossomed tears
singing the lotus hymn
As the evacuee fleed from my body.
Memory shifting to
A four legged friend
Mistakenly named the truth
Of enlightenment
Crushed under the leg of man.
My crime of attachment
Speaking with her purple tongue.
Nothing coming from nothing
And to nothing back again.
Liquid blossoms offered
To sail them home.
Smoke offerings for the dead
Where you made your
First and last appearance.
Nothing to nothing, amen.
By Malinda Meadows
Tapering down a maze of mirrors
Each one reflecting me
I see a million figures
Dancing in the dust
Of golden filegree
Dark mother of the spiral
Alone in every one
The tapa burning brightly
On songs that I have sung
Voices I have lilted
And changes that have rung
Like great holy bells echoing
For the call of prayer
Like twigs bound with string
And a promise
Dancing in fire.
Poems of the yantra 