2:30am brain juice burn-out

The waxing gibbous moon is overflowing with seduction tonight. I met a friend down on the Hudson after the movies got out (Moon- which I highly recommend, and Ice Age- which is what it is- a great movie to go into after your first movie has finished and not quite ready to return to studying).

The sky opened up and there it was in solitary majesty reflecting shimmery moonrays upon the water as it ebbed and flowed to the response of moon's seductive rhythms- as lovers should be doing on this evening basking in the shadows with moon's display of gratitude that one can partake of such an incredible expression of amazement and wonder. Tonight I am not that lucky lover that shares such nocturnal knowledge. Instead I stealthily walk the dark, empty streets back to 82nd to take to the pen, or keyboard rather. Upon entering I take refuge in Rumi's writings:

Some Kiss We Want

There is some kiss we want with
our whole lives, the touch of

spirit on the body. Seawater
begs the pearl to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild darling! At

night, I open the window and ask
the moon to come and press its

face against mine. Breathe into
me. Close the language- door and

open the love window. The moon
won't use the door, only the window.

My legs cave in at the visual I create in which I am witness to "seawater begging pearl to break its shell" It is so beautiful that it hurts. It is that feeling of so much goodness that you almost feel sick because you cannot express it in words. Then you lose the desire to express abstraction in words because it is not possible. There are better uses for channeling one's energy when they reach this level of knowing-ness...

Dare I gain some insights into another Rumi poem? Wholeheartedly YES:

"Suddenly the drunken sweetheart appeared out of my door.
She drank a cup of ruby wine and sat by my side.
Seeing and holding the lockets of her hair
My face became all eyes, and my eyes all hands."

I stare disbelievingly into my computer screen- how can these words leap from the screen and affect me so? Will I soon be tasting words? If I can feel the eroticism of words why can't I taste them? So I lay pondering what the words "My face became all eyes, and my eyes all hands" would taste like... Ambrosia? Nectar from Gods & Goddesses? Ben & Jerry's Phish Food? Eggplant Parmeasan?

I cannot stop now as I lay drunk in Rumi's world...
Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,
absentminded. Someone sober
will worry about things going badly.
Let the lover be.

These are the secrets moon whispers. I hear them loud and clear because, unfortunately, there is nothing to distract me on this waxing gibbous moon tonight- shameful not all lovers are able to share this insight...

Ok, enough Rumi, now it's time to return to the very real world of English language phonology & patterns of stress, intonation and rhythm. Yea that's right the real visual here is a mess of school books covering my bed, a laptop, a printer, hiliters, paper clips, loads of assigned reading printouts... It's been nice soaking up your passion-filled poems Rumi- to the point where I don't think I will be an effective language student tonight because as you stated in the above poem, "Close the language-door and open the love window". ..