My Guru

She wasn’t yet a year,
and her eyes were looking
up at mine,
alive
with joyful awareness:
I had met my guru.

This month she’s turning 29,
a lovely adult living
in a foolish land,
but every time I see her eyes,
I recognize
my guru.

My guru has no name,
no form,
no permanent disguise,
not even eyes.
It’s far beyond
such creature compromise.

To say my guru is
the stuff of love
is as to say this universe
is just the sum of every star.
Yes, that!
And so much more.


~Son Rivers 2009