This

When the whip, the goad arises in me, when fear and anxiety prick at the soft places, every hour, every day.

When this is not enough, when now is only this or that, when a quality is missing or gone astray. (Compulsion...)

I am not moved. My heart is mine.

No, you cannot have me. But I don't say it... I alter my response without moving at all.

I am so relaxed inside. The contortions of my ego, perfect, touch me as God. I am surrounded by God. 

There is nothing else here. I need nothing, desire nothing. I am kissed with bliss, the inner touches and telling caresses of what and whom I am made.

visualparadox.com

I need not stretch or pry or dig. For weeks now I have been shedding this riot of will.

This.

This barely lit room, this feeling of night and a soft bed waiting... this intimate world of light is You, Your consciousness.

What if I saw You everywhere I looked?

This.

I feel whole again, just this, perfection and wholeness. I begin to cry. I have found You in what I knew but could not yet become.

This is all You.

Center’, digital art, (C)2012 H Kopp-Delaney

I know You as light, as this inseparable world of light and sound. The silent divine rises upward through my spine to divine union... and I am subtle, my state is subtle soft and tastes of salt and blood, the fragrance of your breath, the warmth of your whispered kisses, framing my body as a living portrait of love.

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Brother Utpaladeva, (I touch your feet...), my prayers echo yours in this one mighty phrase: "You hide in plain sight as everything." (Utpaladeva: Shivastotravali)