On the night when you cross the street From your shop and your house To the cemetery You'll hear me hailing you from inside The open grave, and you'll realize How we've always been together. I am the clear consciousness-core Of your being, the same in Ecstasy as in self-hating fatigue. That night, when you escape your fear of snakebite And all irritations with the ants, you'll hear My familiar voice, see the candle being lit, Smell the incense, the surprise meal fixed By the lover inside all your other lovers. This heart tumult is my signal to you igniting in the tomb. So don't fuss with the shroud And the graveyard dust. Those get ripped open and washed away In the music of our final meeting. And don't look for me in human shape, I am inside your looking. No room For form with love this strong. Beat the drum and let the poets speak. This is the day of purification for those who Are already mature and initiated into what love is. No need to wait until we die! There's more to want here than money And being famous and eating bites of roasted meat. Now, what shall we call this new sort of gazing house That has opened in our town where people sit Quietly and pour out their glancing Like light, like answering?