That Place Divine

The mood drowns,
gulped quickly whole,
and slipping down
a well-worn route
so warm that I
like dripping ghee
in rice and bowl,
start feeding from the oil,
the roiled fusing grains
poking at my heart,
provoking pen and hand to sum
the musings landed on
a flow of needy rhythm
to the aches that come.
Perhaps it is a dream;
a fantasy of tumbled knowing;
of seabeams dancing far below
a rumbling surface.
There flung from muted voice
to written words –
unbidden choices chanced –
and sung to empty page,
preempts the sadness thrown,
ridding doubt upon the
timeless inner dance of me.
I may own it any time
that I dissolve in love,
and tears fall from
the depthless eyes above
that always see,
that always weep,
that always seek
the breadth of nowhere,
ending without borders
in the places only
God can know.