A little Bhakti book for enthusiasts
Here follows a collection of poems and quotes and such,
speaking of Love in the language of poetry.


Acda & de Munnik - Not or never been
text: Thomas Acda / music: Thomas Acda and Paul de Munnik
translated from the original Dutch song

I see two people on the beach
They're holding hands by water's reach
It's sunset, bliss makes the words stop
I know her well cause you are she
She smiles at him and that is me
But that can't be cause I mess it all up.

I couldn't possibly be him
The peace, the love, that's not for me
Familiar like an old golden thread,
You have my love, that you can see,
But I know that just can't be,
I wear a ring but we never have wed.

I am myself not
Or all those years never been
The right man playing out the wrong scene
I am myself not or just never been.

I see two people, they both stand
She turns around, we've got to go
Look in her eyes there's the same pain
Two people long ago involved
All this loving such a waste
We can't help it but we'd rather refrain

I am myself not
Or all those years never been
Playing a game that I never can win
I am myself not or just never been.

Oh, let it the sun be
Oh, let it the beach be
Let it the sea be
Let me do something now
So that you never want to see me
Oh, let it be the salt
Let it be my dumbest fault
But please let me never forget
Never more forget
Never forget this day by the sea

I am myself not or all those years never been
I am myself not or all those years never been
I am myself not or never been.


Of course it hurt.
My traveling was full of pain.
The pain the fuel,
that burned like a hell,
Burning my delusions
of many universes made away.
Suddenly that tear-jerk hissing of the ego,
The devil himself, was no more alone but could be heard
To issue from all the beings.

When it seemed from all the beings to come
That one I with blaring trumpets, felling all warriors
and all their worlds,
To plunge them deep into the sea,
where all appeared as one,
There love was born
finally after all hissing
tangibly on center ground,
to see all and all surrounding
as itself.
In the grip of the intangible
I love only Myself.
Through the nectar of desolation
Burns the Light.

Jan van Delden


The warriors seem not
to tire of their worlds
defend themselves with sword and shield
as a habit
I feed them with nectar
again and again they conjure tricks
and if they don't work
there follows merciless violence
the warriors are clever
have a thousand tricks
to keep me in their grasp.
Still I will fight on
through frenzy and desolation.
I thank God that
my bow is stretched each time
and aiming towards the light
Behold from there the spectacle
that's played
and see that it is only so that
attentiveness can shine on it.


Love for the colorless

Sometimes it's a little hard,
colors are so pleasant,
nice to sit in,
and to disappear into.
They are not all the same,
sometimes they are so enthralling.

I've known the thousand colors many years,
Believed in many colors many years.
I listened to red.
enjoyed with yellow.
Swooned away with pink.

But now, sometimes, I see a whole.
It isn't blue, or purple, and not green.
It simply has no color.
One big light.
Everything in it.
Each, with it's color.

When I am allowed in the light,
all seems so colorless, so dull and uninteresting.
All I see. is the great play.
The worth of red, brown or orange,
does not matter any more.
They play a game.

Not always do I see it so,
some colors are so used to me.
They don't easily go.
I still believe so much in them,
I still am too attached.

But when I see all colors
the whole one light,
no color more can make me sad,
or even happy,
in the middle again.

I see that I am no color anymore,
I only re-cognize,
all appearing and disappearing.
Then there is light,
light without color but oh so colorful!



[.] When the self is no more, there is simply an abiding in the beloved. The game goes on and there is a response to the game. But the response comes from nowhere and goes to nowhere. And the game and the respons is the divine expression. All and everything is seen and heard and felt as the beloved. And the beloved is the ground of all that is. [.]
From: As It Is – Tony Parsons


Oh, he loves me as himself;
I doubt no more, just cross over
with no bridge
no transport means
pure Wonder,

When our eyes flow
to formless silence;
where is my teacher then?
where am I?

Love, I fall at your feet
You fall at my feet
then we both move our feet
to delightfully, oh delightful
go around undefined


It escapes me
but see
it is also here,
in the middle of escaping
it can never escape me.

If Knowing realizes
that it can not Know Knowing
seeking Knowing stops
and Knowing falls back into Itself again.

She seeks no more but finds
Itself in all forms;
she is the seeing from all open doors
of that which has no doors.

So, if you ask for Love
there is no road that goes there;
then it is Love Itself that asks to find
the Love that it already is.

The child picks something up,
the world exists no more,
only this jewel; Love
picks Itself up.


Oh God I sing You
and You know,
even if you don't exist or something
as many claim nowadays
that's fine with me,
as far as I'm concerned they are also right
and I sing only for myself.

Maybe that's a little dumb
for a mortal creature
to claim
that a relation with God exists.

A mortal creature
can see that a relationship with God
implies the I-appearance
would happen outside God, which is absurd.

I have no affair with God.
I see that God and I are both ideas
within a Wonder not understood.

While the ideas of God and I
flounder on the shore; they find themselves
to be in the ocean of silence

God is Love, the consequence of nothing;
no offer can acquire Love,
it is already Love that the person forgets.


She has no properties;
she just allows them all,
so if you call it your dog,
a chocolate bar
or your guru;
it is always Love
you follow.

Love lives in every love,
even the one with a little letter;
big letter L is saved
for the always Knowing Love
that also hate incorporates
that the little l
runs away from.


Allowing without motion
tired of the hate of avoiding,

(Every form realized in me
with no story)

All forms dissolve
in worshipping the worship

Everyone knows her, but not
where she lives, or her identity

Because Love is the dance of giving and receiving
where no one gives, no one receives.

Joost Lips


Speaking of Love…
[Johan van der Kooij]

'Yesterday I met a very charming woman,
I was totally gone about her…'
How many times have I heard that said already?
Unknowingly we use Vedanta in our speech:
'I was totally carried away...': by the woman, the man, the painting, or some other object
I as a person was gone, but why?

Wouldn't it be much nicer to remain present as a person, to enjoy her or the object?
Apparently something so radical happened that it would be superfluous for me to remain as a person. I dissolved temporarily in love itself.

Musing over love and her many forms of expression I heard in my heart and mind a song from my teens: Suzanne by Leonard Cohen.
As if by magic I became aware of the deeper meaning of the words:

(text:) Suzanne takes me down to a place by the river
(commentary:) Love, unconditional love takes me to 'shamata', stop, and invites me to look at my feelings

(text:) You can watch the boats go by, you can spend the night forever
(commentary:) Time and the timeless exist together, I live both in the relative and the absolute

(text:) and I know that she's half crazy and that's why I want to be there
(commentary:) A deep recognition passes through me when I am with her

(text:) and she gives me tea and oranges that come all the way from China
(commentary:) Love, or unconditional love expresses itself in many forms, even the palpable

(text:) and just when I want to tell her that I have no love to give her
(commentary:) At the moment that I think that it is impossible for me to surrender to the absolute

(text:) she gets me on her wavelength and she let's the river answer
(commentary:) Everything comes to life, and the insight arises that I have never been separate from what I actually am, Love

(text:) and I want to travel with her, and I want to travel blind cause she's touched my perfect body with her mind
(commentary:) I say yes unconditionally because she is the source of everything, even my thoughts.


Should come out of your
Silence, awareness, meditativeness.
It is soft, it is unbinding
Because how can Love create fetters
For the one it loves?


When two lovers love
They love the two of them
They love the one of them
In the space between.


In true Love, there is neither a lover, nor a beloved.
A moment comes, indicated by the body, to celebrate this love on the physical plane. To feel this oneness bodily, comes directly from Love itself.

Jean Klein


Love is so vast within itself. It’s where you die. You don’t die into fear; you die into love. It’s so vast that it will burn you up. It’s so jealous and greedy for itself to be mirrored back that it will leave you nothing. And when you’re feeling that if you don’t give it away you’ll die in it, it’s so vast that there’s nothing you can do with it. All you can do is be it.
Byron Katie


You have to hear the story of love from love itself.
Because she's like a mirror, both dumb and saying much.

Mevlana Jelalu’ddin Rumi


Love only gives itself and draws only from itself.
Love possess not and wants not to be possessed;
for love is itself enough.

Kahlil Gibran (in ‘The Prophet’)


The Great Way is not difficult
for those who have no preferences.
When love and hate are both absent
everything becomes clear and undisguised.

Sengtsan, Hsin Hsin Ming


Love always searches Love and does not stop till Love is found.
John of the Cross


See Love. Hear Love. Reach out and touch Love. Eat Love, sweet Love, and smell Love. For Love is but the Self’s Awareness of Itself.
Ramana Maharshi


Love-hate can not exist outside the dualistic universe of sense perceptions and personal experience. 'Impersonal love' is something like 'immaterial material', or some other contradictory expression.
Wei Wu Wei