According to maps, Ganga begins at the confluence of the Bhagirathi
and Alaknanda rivers. Spiritually, Ganga begins at Gaumukh.
God, this is
too difficult!
Loving hurts.
I am left to die
naked, exposed.
I lie alone waiting.
Now that I know
just how it feels
to be torn in two,
I can no longer be
just half of a whole.
I can hardly tolerate
this ache in my chest,
this breaking of bones
and snapping of sinews
within my sundered soul.
So says the personality self,
the panting self, the ego self.
So says the one who does not
know the real meaning of love
and tries desperately to find it.
The reality is that I am bathing
and swimming in perfect love.
The waters of the river of life
are lapping over every inch
of this consecrated body.
The long-hidden desires
that you have unearthed,
aroused, and restimulated
are high gifts of incarnation
and I am the joyful recipient.
Even alone, I am held in love.
Even when humanness hurts,
I can reach into completeness.
I go empty and sense the force.
I breathe, I intuit, I feel the winds.
I source, I dream, I pose questions.
I listen for words that might decode
the profound resonance between us.
My spirit is buoyed by the response:
Loving, expansive, hopeful, tender,
empowered, regenerative, right.
I shall rest peacefully tonight.
Already I am dreaming of you,
though my eyes are open wide.
Our lives are mystically entwined.
Rooted in the Heart, we sing as one.
Laced into a single soul, we are whole.
This poem is part of a collection titled The Longing of God for God.
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