Surcease

Carry on a conversation with your mind,
attempt to divine the truth of your situation,
the proof of the station in life
you’ve chosen to occupy.

Remove the sties from your eyes,
bear witness to your own weakness,
minimize your strengths to find balance,
become the prince or princess of the realm,
partaking of the sacred chalice.

Find balance in denial,
the power of self-control
announcing your arrival
at the alter of spirit’s revival
as body colludes with mind
and space conspires with time.

Destiny calls us all
and we grovel before the fall
yet and still we rise
despite the challenges
despite our cries
despite our insistence upon
believe the lies
we tell ourselves.

Continuing that conversation
we are overcome by revelation.

The voices in your mind, slowly cease.

Instead, you are filled with peace.

Surcease.

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Angel Tears

Is this love, this low-level warfare of souls,
the higher dimensional fanfare of Oneness
the forgotten goal,
lost amidst the trials and tribulations of
daily life,
forgotten within the traumas and painful
episodes of daily strife.

When do we find the truth of things,
written in the stars as etheric bells do ring,
the angels watching over us
tears softly falling
their heavenly songs to sing,
as days pass by and time’s
pendulum continues to swing?

Trouble, trouble casts our days
as thunderous storms roll through
and we refuse to change our ways,
denying the quirks that others see
so clear,
while proclaiming righteousness
in words and actions
unaware that judgement is near.

Who loves so truly
that they know who they are,
intimately aware of their foibles and
issues, self-knowledge as close to
lived reality as the most distant
of stars?

As the brightness intensifies
and the world itself transforms
some choose ever to densify
to double-down on the norm
refuse to see the defamation
of their own spirits,
the sublimation of higher merit
hoisting dysfunction like a trophy
while soul’s urge continues to
flow free denied expression
day to day,
as love’s full vision continues
to play.

Somewhere distant,
beyond our ken.

Those angelic tears are falling,
once again.

Contemplation

Drama ensues.

The blues catch souls afoul of contusions
ephemeral illusions conceal goals of powerful
delusions that mislead the masses, sky-bound
impasses of glassed passages, flashes of brilliance
rippling across optical mazes, panopticon dreams,
phases of cognitive challenge, the balance pierced
by pinpointed lasers, managed by the anointed
sycophants of sin, intoning mantras of disjointed
harmonies, before the entire cycle begins again.

5 ages of Humanity.

When?

No man knows the day or the hour, the power
concentrated in towers of babylonic intensity,
showers of blood flood the megalopoli of men,
once again the story blends into cyclic tales open
to various interpretations, truth determined by the
proof of subjective knowledge, the soothsayers
amassed upon a ridge overlooking the people,
their fingers clasped in steeples, the foundation of
the church everlasting as dying souls lay gasping
upon the shoals of an ephemeral sea, while celestial
horns ring, beckoning you and me.

Silence deepens.

A ripple across the creative void, information masked
as light, the first flight of fancy, a current in the dream
of divinity, a stream in the river of the holy trinity, beyond
the creative intent of the limited capacities of men, friends
seeking the farthest ends, the farthest shores contemplated,
invisible doors revealed to the designated purveyors of
prophetic intent, it is all meant for common knowledge.

The akashic records abolished,

The open sky the guide to a better life, astride astral rides
we fly, hearts wide open we soar, the floor dropping away,
eternity revealing her face, beyond space, beyond
the rat race, beyond the face of everything we thought
we knew, we blew past dogma, met her mother destiny,
looking forward to truly being free, traveling across
the eternal sea, far beyond, singing our own personal songs,
blending in perfect harmony, strongly, right or wrongly,
we are here to be.

Perfection. Peace.

The Sum

You ever stop to think about the fact that every compounded moment beginning with the big bang deposition of matter from zero-point to quarks and atoms, quasars and nebulae, time dilation and wormholes has brought creation barreling up an evolutionary spiral culminating in every star, comet and planetary body including your body right here, right now.

That you are the result of untold infinities of potentialities manifest, that of all possible people in all possible worlds you are here, in this space, in this moment living a life connected to other beings on the same journey, coalesced in time from the dust of ancient stars, the bones of gaseous gods, the flesh of transcendent gnosis.

That you are the sum of all creation. That your spouse is. Your children. Your neighbor down the hall. The street. Your pastor. Your grocer, your secretary and your parol officer, your lover and your dog.

That all that is, is you, is me, is us, is all that is.

And that there is no contradiction in that.
That paradox is life. Is pain and joy, heartache and happiness. Good luck and bad, sunshine and rain. The dark and the light take turns running the world, running our lives, running creation manifest. The yin and yang of existence is a cosmic dance, same partner, same time, same place. Over and over we twirl across the space of stars skipping and pirouetting across galaxies and universes, doing the cosmic dance, leaping laughter bouncing, bounding like gas giants booming through dimensions echoing fractals of intention higher through the spirals of metaversal intersection.

I know it all sounds obscure and, perhaps, a bit fanciful. But think about it for a minute. The only reason for being is Being itself. The only reason for seeing is Sight. Senses reveal the co-creation to itself as we bear witness to life. Acknowledging existence with conscious presence, being the Creators eyes. Living and learning, guided through paradox in faltering fits and starts, failures and successes. The vale of tears, right? The forest of fears undreamt of terrors untapped of horrors unreleased to prey upon your dreams and lives, giving rise to the opportunity for rebirth.

You see, there is the key. The secret…not so much. Masks obscure clear vision, foment separation and suffering. Obliterate clarity, awaken insanity, otherwise known as the egoic delusion. Believing the mask is the face, deluded bags of flesh do the dance macabre, skeletons clacking across the dusty floors of a deserted saloon in the midst of nowhere, nowhen.

Take off your mask. Or not. The very act of hearing these words loosens it, just a bit. As attention is drawn to its tricks. The real boss lies beneath the franctic thoughts, the fearful lies. The silent awareness that you can just sense….there. Right there. Dispassionately observing that you you think you are in every second cascading you with you as you are bombarded with you and you see you in every you you see in your mind. You. Youyouyou.

There! Did you see it?

Me too.

Shamans and gurus can tell you all about it. Priests, pastors and prophets know what’s up. So do you. The stars and numbers do too. And that, my friends, brings us right back round again to the beginning. That big bang of becoming that became. All of it. Indescribable. Ineffable. Nameless. Boundless.

You see what I’m saying?

Just think about it.

Canocanayestatetlo

Here comes, the rain.

Karst topographies part waters that flow through carboniferous daughters who long ago wooed husbands of flame, seeking the same seed that life breeds, the marriage of oppositions portending the same, hydrostatically charged masses of liquid immerse metamorphic birthings of outcroppings that drip stalactites across speleothemic forests the ancient lore confirmed by astronomical dates confirming the highest of fates. 

Bursting, rising, spiraling through flowering branchings of rock, limestone passages stocked with vibrant life, the building blocks of creation present abounding formations crowning haloed by whirling clouds of light, brightly speckled orbs of reflected sight cycling endlessly with the darkness of silent night.

River wild, joyous fountain of spirit burst free unconfined, refined through storied histories bubbling, frothing sprays of jubilant song quantum strong entangled quasars and quarks approach the fork in the road and carry their load both ways, subtly ethereal rays permeate the harmonious abode, God strode through brilliant hallways of light, benighted humanity a brooding thought, encompassing the totality of all that the multiverse taught.

Cascading bubbles of foam, the gloaming beckons souls home, crystalline clarity entwined molecules colliding polarity uniting, spiraling exciting bursts of freedom in light, sinuous might of a river enshrined by God’s sight chosen, sacred waters whirl, swirl with the intent of creation, water spirits demand oblations, claiming divine right decrying humanity’s plight.

Who is awakened, tonight? The river calls, her ponderous flow so slow, while banks grow, supplicants row over ancestors below, while crows scream recriminations regarding dreams of murdered nations, of college stations perched precariously atop remnants of a sacred sea through which ancient batholiths emerged, withstanding the surge of time sublime records of endless creation entombed in bone.

The earth mother grumbles, her irresistible urge to purge, turn inside out no doubts rising to compete her need to witness her seeds grown to fruition an intuition of alchemical fission, the perdition of human-centric conceptions of progress and growth, civilization and technology, hubris betrothed to rubrics of paradigmatic constriction masked as truth, the proffered proof prideful and aloof, ponderously remorseless revolutions of soul.

Sacred spirits of lyirical wonder, soaring above still waters the thunder of time refined through space, the falls of grace fill the lagoon of hope with all the tropes of spirit, aspirations and desires, afire with the burning need to be, of creation freed, eternal spirals gone viral in the cauldron of human greed and belief. 

Placid, her grace. Stately, her pace across space, chuckling to herself sublimie mysteries of life, her depthless void a sanctuary beyond strife, beyond pain. 

Here comes, the rain.

 Photo: Canocanayestatetlo NaPoWriMo 2/30 2014

Here comes, the rain.

Karst topographies part waters that flow through carboniferous daughters who long ago wooed husbands of flame, seeking the same seed that life breeds, the marriage of oppositions portending the same, hydrostatically charged masses of liquid immerse metamorphic birthings of outcroppings that drip stalactites across speleothemic forests the ancient lore confirmed by astronomical dates confirming the highest of fates. 

Bursting, rising, spiraling through flowering branchings of rock, limestone passages stocked with vibrant life, the building blocks of creation present abounding formations crowning haloed by whirling clouds of light, brightly speckled orbs of reflected sight cycling endlessly with the darkness of silent night.

River wild, joyous fountain of spirit burst free unconfined, refined through storied histories bubbling, frothing sprays of jubilant song quantum strong entangled quasars and quarks approach the fork in the road and carry their load both ways, subtly ethereal rays permeate the harmonious abode, God strode through brilliant hallways of light, benighted humanity a brooding thought, encompassing the totality of all that the multiverse taught.

Cascading bubbles of foam, the gloaming beckons souls home, crystalline clarity  entwined molecules colliding polarity uniting, spiraling exciting bursts of freedom in light, sinuous might of a river enshrined by God's sight chosen, sacred waters whirl, swirl with the intent of creation, water spirits demand oblations, claiming divine right decrying humanity's plight.

Who is awakened, tonight? The river calls, her ponderous flow so slow, while banks grow, supplicants row over ancestors below, while crows scream recriminations regarding dreams of murdered nations, of college stations perched precariously atop remnants of a sacred sea through which ancient batholiths emerged, withstanding the surge of time sublime records of endless creation entombed in bone.

The earth mother grumbles, her irresistible urge to purge, turn inside out no doubts rising to compete her need to witness her seeds grown to fruition an intuition of alchemical fission, the perdition of human-centric conceptions of progress and growth, civilization and technology, hubris betrothed to rubrics of paradigmatic constriction masked as truth, the proffered proof prideful and aloof, ponderously remorseless revolutions of soul.

 Sacred spirits of lyirical wonder, soaring above still waters the thunder of time refined through space, the falls of grace fill the lagoon of hope with all the tropes of spirit, aspirations and desires, afire with the burning need to be, of creation freed, eternal spirals gone viral in the cauldron of human greed and belief. 

Placid, her grace. Stately, her pace across space, chuckling to herself sublimie mysteries of life, her depthless void a sanctuary beyond strife, beyond pain. 

Here comes, the rain.

Conceptions of Self

Difficult days typify the ways
Of the soul
It is said the strongest spirits
Experience the greatest trials
Tribulations through time
The woes of Job
The death throes of conceptions of Self.

Troubles arise and fall
Arising from someplace beyond us all
A wall of sorts seems to exist
Separating our perception
By means of deception from some
Deeper font of Wisdom and Truth
The proof we ever seem to seek
Indicative of the futile ruminations of
The weak.

Seeking existence of the Divine
Ignoring the times in our lives
When strife has risen like a tide
Engulfing our entire conception of Self
And purpose
Conveniently forgetting our soul-felt
Prayers soon after
Returning to blissful ignorance
Pride and hubris the restored face
Despite the willfully ignored response
Of the Master.

Coincidence, we proclaim
As we continue the game of denial
Projecting ego through space
Blindly unaware of the blessings
That took us there
To that place of self-destruction
Of reticent self-deconstruction
The seduction of personality
Soothing fears
Whispering lies
In terrified ears.

Secret Lover

I have a secret lover and she is a harsh mistress indeed. Her fame, her name is Desire, the burning fire inside of me. She is a flame that flares and leaps without ending or surcease, she troubles me in times of action, but also, in times of peace.

She whispers in my ear at night when I am trying to sleep, she shouts and wakes me from my dreams, my soul she wants to keep. And when my thoughts rise past the pains and troubles of the day, she reaches out and snatches me right back without delay.

I’ve wondered how to best release her hold upon my life but she knows my every wish and thought, her kiss cuts like a knife. Her lips are sharp as razors and her hands are claws of pain, as she rips my life into little shreds, tears fall like drops of rain.

I think I’ve found her secret.

She doesn’t know I know.

By emptying mind of dreams and hopes I deal her a fatal blow.

By cultivating silence, mind at ease, her voice is gone, by living fully in the Now I am no more her pawn. And yet I hear her faintly still, a cry upon the wind, and slowly, yes, but surely, I can feel my spirit mend.

Her ties to me they dissipate as mind and spirit meld, my secret love Desire’s hold upon me is dispelled. I see her now with other guys, and girls too she’s not bound by societies anxieties she’s Queen complete with crown.

I smile and mind my business knowing Free Will is the key, I center self and contemplate my life, a dream of Eternity.