On the Nature of Love

By Rabindranath Tagore

The night is black and the forest has no end;
a million people thread it in a million ways.
We have trysts to keep in the darkness, but where
or with whom – of that we are unaware.
But we have this faith – that a lifetime’s bliss
will appear any minute, with a smile upon its lips.
Scents, touches, sounds, snatches of songs
brush us, pass us, give us delightful shocks.
Then peradventure there’s a flash of lightning:
whomever I see that instant I fall in love with.
I call that person and cry: ‘This life is blest!
for your sake such miles have I traversed!’
All those others who came close and moved off
in the darkness – I don’t know if they exist or not.

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Thanksgiving

For the monk who
steps into the forest to meditate
for the rest of his days
for the hang glider who
takes off from the highest
majestic cliff
for the diver who makes
eye contact with an old whale
while the colorful school of fish
swim around him/her
for the little girl
who watches a bird soar
for the little boy who
splashes in a muddy puddle
for a mother who nurses her
babe in the wee hours of night
for the father and his working hands
for the one that loves
in the midst of coldness cruelty
and uncertainty
for the flowers that grow
the stars that glow
the moon that shines
the sun that gives
for all beings that create
for all hearts that give
and all hearts that receive
for the endless bosom
of compassion that is
capable of holding everything and
everyone with infinite love,
I give thanks.
Thanks for everything
that I know of
everything that I do not know of
and everything that
I’ll never know but
my soul feels and my heart
has always known.
May the innocence
of a tiny flower
the awe of a high mountain
the beauty of the endless
colorful Fields
the generosity of all that gives
the deepness of the ocean
and all that is beautiful and
loving stay with me
forever and always.

Hydeh Aubon (11/27/08)