There is an order of love
That knows no boundaries
It’s the serving that affirms existence
It’s being out of the senses
With gratitude, conversing with compassion
Where devotion is sustenance
And the Beloved is formless, and thus
Present at all peculiar times
The sagest source of moments
I’m half heart, and spirit
I’m half clay, and water
I met the Beloved last night
In an open field of dream
I was told to live like a drunken gypsy
That my true income was measured in Bliss
So I wobbled left and bobbled right
Not knowing how to do it
Until I let myself go a little mad
To live among strangers & lovers.
Wuji Seshat 