I know you think that all you need is love.
Most everyone feels this too.
But do not shrivel and turn away
then hungry, search the earth for love.

I want you to drop all longing
immediately
and turn to me with your body’s slow, wise ear.

Be still —
wherever you are
right now
be very, very still.

I want you to know with every measure conceivable
with each breath that flows in and out of your body
that you are bathed in love,
already.
You may not have the eyes to see
nor the heart to feel completely
but you do have all the love you need, right now
right where you are.

At the bus stop,
in your kitchen, at your desk,
love is already present.
Pressing against the thin bark of your skin,
waiting to feed you at the bottom of each breath,
fire-dancing through your body’s veins,
love shifts every grain within you.

You are an operating system of love.
This is the fact.
You are an operating system of love.
Can you be still
yea, for three seconds
and feel this reality?

You do not need to hunt for love.
Let go your voracious appetite and turn —
stare down the nagging little fears that whip and starve you.


I yearn for you to feel my touch,
to recognize me in any of my disguises.
See — I hold a cloak before you.
The patient earth would be your clothing.
Wrap yourself in any of my rich fabrics.
What would you desire from my garden:
Rose-petals, red and thickly scented or salty strands of seaweed?
Caress of wind-whispers or heavy granite veins?
Thick tree-trunks or bullrush reeds?
Endless rainbow carpets or fragile butterfly wings?

Create your cloth from this array
and weave it with your ardent breath.
Now rest inside this sumptuous cloak.
Stand very, very still.
Look out upon your world
and say with me —
I am love.