The Fragrance of Beloved
the fragrance of a flower is always present in the muddiness of consciousness, for the flower is there, even if it is not the lover asks his beloved, 'does the flower have a heart?' 'not the beating one but the being one and the non being one', she replies the fragrance follows the lover like the void of cosmos, never one, but never two as-well, such wondrous play, such suchness the lover asks his beloved, 'does the flower bloom in the night or the day?' 'you are always blooming, dear one, always blooming', she replies no words of bliss and ecstasy can define this, so stay silent beloved, stay in silence, never, uttering a word just your fragrance