Not in form bound in or around this round of existence,
I Am.
In every form finding itself floundering all around, unfound,
I Am.
Can't be expounded, can't be propounded, can't be in my head pounded,
I Am.
This is nothing, that is nothing, you are nothingeverything, say THAT
I Am.
Someone moves inside from somewhere bringing something speaking nothing,
I Am.

I must be I am, must be I am, can I get a witness to this sam I am plan?
I Am. (Am I sam I am or am I sam I am not?)
Witness to what? Witness to who needing something to define You. YooHoo!
Advaita-rated guest spots on the late night hotspot's are wide open
if you know the secret password, the club's handshake, the no-speak.
In the beginning was the word 'til we silenced it. We zipped that trap!

Be true.
Be true?
True to who?
Be True to you.
But who am I?
WHO AM I?

Still, not two. It must be true this not two. Still, not two?
To be not two I have to slay the Beloved One, or I, slay I, say I.
"There is no slayer and none are slain."
Then who or what has got to go, or give! In or up will probably do.
Dual-speak. Poet's sing to lovers caught
in Mira's Dark One's Kashmiri Black Eyes Blinking as our loving again.
Lost in that silence of Being Love, being who I am,
somewhere in that spaceless space I birth my world again
as a single jasmine blossom trembles like a bead of light
on waterbeads
trembling on my mind's skyey alter of nothing, nothing, everywhere!

A Waterwheel makes rounds around our fumblings and our stumblings!
Splashes of fun have won the race, beat the gun, born the brunt,
just begun to roll ripe melons down the hillsides of me.
All day and night long rolling round fruit all along, a long way,
a long, long way from home. Standing on a bridge of me now;

on the bridge at night
two people below speak in low tones
we all three know the secret now.

I Am who I am in a circle repeating the chorus of rejoining,
rejoicing in I Am. Voiceless Rejoicing in Nothing's Abundance Rejoining.
I Am
Opened gates of No-Mind. I am inside seeing Sight!
Smashing melons, crashing gates, carting off the jewels and cash,
this thief of hearth, and heart, and home has taken nothing!
Nothing was and nothing will and nothing can and nothing is but That
I Am.

I Am what Rumi counseled me to be, he said to me to be
"a full bucket pulled up the dark way of a well
and lifted out into light."
I Am words, fit fine, fine and dandy like a toothcomb combing out me.
Now toothless and homeless and clueless as ever, still dropped-jawless,
still within me, lying in fields of moonflowers and Hoopoes,
the breeze of remembrance comes blowing to me, blowing from the Sea of
I Am.

But are you, oh YooHoo! remembering to remember and why to surrender
I Am.
Surrender I Am.
Surrender I Am to Surrender, surrender surrender, I, I surrender,
I surrender I