The Trouble With Cups

Come child…come in out of the cold.

I have seen you wandering those empty streets, wanting to fill your cup, wanting to be heard and seen.

This is the kind of seeking you were born for.

Tearing your knee's to shreds, scouring around in the dirt, making yourself frantic,

for you sense the thing you seek is SO near,

yet it is lost to you.

So you kick and scratch and claw against reality

until the earth pulls you closer to her body,

and you sink into a cooling stream of tears.

It is in that sweet surrender, that you hear my voice

not as words, but as the still-point clamor of your own steady beating heart

And oh, love, do you now see why your searching comes up empty?

Has the hammering of this drum finally woken-up your weary mind?

It does not matter.

I will hold you in your seeking for as long as it takes

I will hold you till the end of time.

I will hold you in the darkest places, until every shred of pain is revealed

as your teacher.

Until the well of your eyes has finally gone dry

I will hold you here, without condition, until your clarity shines like a torch in the night

For it is then you will see it

it is then that you will laugh out loud

having looked upon this cup you've out-held, and realized,

it has no bottom. 

Having realized, it never had.

That all you've sought to fill yourself with CANNOT BE CONTAINED.

That you are the vessel through which all things flow.

My love, you've never had to contain it.

And every container you've tried to hold it in, keeps alive this illusion of your separation

from Life.

It puts up walls where Love should be.

Drawing limitation in the corners of your mind.

And oh dear, it's no wonder you've been crying, thinking you needed a cup-full

not knowing you're the fullness that first dreamed-up a cup.