Blind Date

‘What is it like

to meet me

without your

ideas about me?’,

you ask.

The question hangs

between us,

two strangers,

curiously suspended

in not knowing.

I don’t even

know your name

yet we meet

and share this

moment,

eyes locked

in tender gaze.

I had no ideas

about you till

you asked,

now they flood in

tripping over

each other with

habitual ease.

‘I have no ideas

about you,’

I think…

But why then

am I surprised

by the softness

of your voice,

the Irish lilt,

delighted by

your insights,

your honesty,

and open clarity?

Enchanted by

this moment,

this opportunity

to meet you,

to dwell in

the mystery

without fear,

no name,

no history,

no map to

show the way.

I cannot fix

you, pin

you down,

fit you in a

box and stick

a label on

your tongue.

And, I have

no mask to

hide from your

unblinking stare.

A Zen master

once said

‘Not knowing

is most intimate.’

Now, knowing

this to be so true,

a smile grows

in my heart

where fear

had once

taken root.

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