and the path to the temple unlit,
when all the sages have emptied your altar,
and become a lamp within.....
the heart burns ecstasy like the tip of a cigarette,
that each moment begins with yearning
and ends in utter fulfillment.
A grasshopper then sits by her computer,
done with the seeking,
and sings this bittersweet song of the Beloved
over and over again.