From out of no way
you made a way
and your way leads home to none:
Manjushri’s throne of infinite wisdom;
King Arthur’s burning pyre at Glastonbury;
the mabonogion lying open
on a university library table.
Now your way
proceeds through no way
and all ways stream
through all ten of your fanning fingers
like the rays of a supernova
leaping outward toward all points
in the universe.
In the fires of your anger
your forged this tempered peace
that now rides at your side as a sword,
yet is wielded in the air like a feathered quill,
with which you blazon your faery scrawl
over the scrolls of the winds.
Tenderness, tenderness, tenderness
and the heart’s dear affections
true the stubborn will.
Tenderness makes the tyrant
servant to the benevolent one,
makes kindness master of wit
and listening the sovereign of your sacred liturgies.
So let a tenderness way call you in,
all souls under the sky’s blue swirl made welcome;
all spirits dancing in the sensuous earth
gathered home to warm the living bone.
