We talked of many things
in our night together.
Of wonders created
forgetting which was which.
We talked of worlds within
worlds and others
When we had drunk deeply
of the wine
you turned to me and said
“The night is young” and
handed me the jug of water.
‘The grand alchemy to turn this water into wine’
I thought and then realized your logic.
Let us not be so sober that we cannot participate
in play and let us not be too drunk to pass out before
The water was cool to the fire of the wine
and refreshed my mind for new explorations.
The caverns of the past and the peaks of the future-
all from the vantage point of this moment.
What journeys we could talk through-
our stories like lifetimes lived in moments,
the morals of which offered up for reflection and then
set down amongst the treasures that surround us.
And then the wine weaves its way in,
but I am mistaken for now
where there once was water in my hand
there is a jug of wine.
You smile as I realize the transformation that has taken place.
No liquid has changed its state,
but only my own awareness.
And so I drink deeply of this sacred water,
seeing it now as the fine vintage
that it is.
The mixture of sun and cloud,
of ice from the far mountains,
and rains from the Sea.
The river that ran overfull
and left her banks behind.
The minerals from deep wells,
the breath of ancients-
all distilled into this earthen jug.
I set it down and see that
I too am of this jug.
The water mixed with fire and wind,
its earthen container filled with empty space.
I stare into the fire.
Into its reflection in your eyes
or maybe that is the fire that was
there since you took your first breath.
reflected like a candle locked in mirrors.
Who knows if any of this is true
or on the path to truth?
I take another sip of water
and stop thinking of what the mind can chase forever
but what the heart already knows for certain.