Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people. this is dinesh singh rajput now every people like me. because .......... i cannot speak of crumbs that fall from an idea .... from an idle thought... from the shredded moments of numbness defined by the ticking of a clock or the scratching numbers of a calendar page... when the beloved's heart is beating so close to my own guiding me into arms that encircle my existence like wildflowers in an open meadow i cannot hear what you are saying when the feathering touch of love's being lingers on my skin.... when the musky scent of the beloved's presence fills my breathing in darkness that has spread out in the mysterious beauty of flowing hair tangled with stars and tenderness upon the pillow of my soul i cannot focus on words when the intimate nearness of love is touching me like the soft transparency of clouds glowing with light flowing in a gaze streaming like a rushing river from my beloved's eyes there is no conversation.... only deep and murmuring communion when i am surrounded by the piercing intensity of the beloved falling around me as tears of feeling waiting to be felt longing to be immersed in otherness becoming oneness yet moving away only to return again and again and again mingling....melting....dissolving whoever i was the way solar flares move closer in the spring warming all traces of the wintering perception of the past drawing me to a hearth that flickers with lights from a flame only a lover can see i am seeing with eyes i can no longer call my own my heart is empowered by the rhythm of a larger heart i feel a pounding pulsation causing every heart to stir and awaken never knowing why or what made them rise in the night and wander to the window to wonder who is ping by the madness of love is a secret only lover's know it is pointless to preach it or teach it or command it or name it for it only answers the heart that begins to hunger for life that is pure and free that no bread can satisfy no drink can quench the thirst no face appears over the horizon no truth writes itself in the explosion of dawn no name suddenly appears on the lips except the whispering holiness of the beloved O beautiful beloved... beloved one may each moment become a spiral of evolving and revolving and expanding presence of the spirit of the one your heart knows as belovedness no one else will recognize the delightful surprize of those eyes you will only hear it in the cries of ecstasy bursting from the depth of your heart