First came the scream of birds
in low flight,
cries torn from their gizzards.
The leaves of the poplars
rattled as the bird-wind
alighted on its branches.
The storm-lanterns swung,
lighting guilt fires.

Is this love, this hurricane
of thoughts about you,
this urge to wrap my bark
around your bamboo-shoot body?

Do 1 ever startle your dreams,
like a carnivore walking into a pond
thatched with wintering duck?

Shadows, wind,
move in the garden,
A mystery strikes root somewhere,
a wand unfolds a rose.

Thought puts a diamond
sword into the heart
and turns it
with an ecstatic twist.

Love is never here,
it says. It is always there,
across the desert
at the edge of the town,
at the other end of desire.

I understand,
in humility bend.
God, death and love
are all striving's end.