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Love in Sanskrit
by Kirpal Gordon

Om purnama dahapurnam idam, purnat purnam udachatay, purnasya purnama
dyam, purnat eva vasishatay. The bird is in the field as the field is in the
bird, lover. The grammar of Sanskrit won’t have it one way over the other. Yes,
no, both & neither: every spoken word wheels true, but moons only rise in
skies & glow because om nama sri chandra the wise lyric it so.

Sound manifests the world our maws mutter, shudder & pout at. A single
inflection’s fall separates a seeker from a sunset. Stressed or blessed,
elocution admits our own tongue tips to be shiva lingam, strike-stroking fissures
within our yoni cave mouths where scores of unborn life forms break out in
whispers create me, baby, shout.

Om purnama dahapurnam idam, purnat purnam udachatay, purnasya purnama
dyam, purnat eva vasishatay. This is full & that is full & every emanation full
for what is produced of the full is by itself full. In Devanagari birds fly
by wildly, but fields only open with the wail of a word or the wink of an I.

If the veil of Maya conceals to us our own divine nature, then the other
must be who we seek to discover, honor, reveal & become. Guttural, palatal,
domal, dental, labial: the sutras of Sanskrit elucidate the exact parts lips &
tongue play in the art of love---& so exactly the whole of love---yearning to
sing & get sung over & over & over again.

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