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.

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.

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.

The Perfection of Peace

The perfection of the process of living is so sublime we’re constantly in danger of underestimating its nature. We go through our trials the best we can and put off our analysis till later. But that time never comes, because we’re beset by everything under the sun and our minds are constantly in play regretting the past and ignoring the day. If we’re not thinking about then, we’re thinking about tomorrow, if we don’t embrace Zen, we choose to embrace sorrow. The Buddha said that suffering is guaranteed when desire becomes need and the scions of sin are freed to wreak havoc indeed. We’re not even clear enough to plead with ourselves, to delve beneath the momentary thoughts, to seek the Truth beneath the things that we’ve sought. And continue to seek, thus the course of our lives becomes more and more bleak. We continue to turn the other cheek tweaking aspects of self till our egos then swell and the illusion becomes complete. Jesus was in tune with Eastern runes, his words of wisdom were hewn from the edifice attuned to the ultimate Divinity. He was one expression of the spiritual Trinity encompassing the expanse of the All presented to sinners in thrall to what in effect amounts to the rejection of Sects, the various Cults that misappropriate vital energy creating synergy that siphons the Soul that diverts our true goals that energetically feeds Monsters and Vampires and Ghosts, doses of Christmas’s future, the remedy a spiritual suture that closes the wound bringing emotions in tune silencing minds that won’t still allowing space for good will. It all comes down to taking the time to silence the mind. That’s it in a nutshell, the Bells of Clarity can only ring if we can hear them. The Heavenly Chorus can only sing if we listen. Glistening Pearls of Wisdom glint in the gloaming, bubbling like froth foaming and bursting on the shores of the sea, each droplet a Worldling, each atom within hurdling through infinite voids, each potentiality employed in the manifestation of the All. Sadly to say, we make the choice to stall. We make the choice to fall. And that is all as it should be. Becoming more aware of the moment we notice the magic, we notice the tragic often leads to more blessings, the depressing and distressing expressing our progression. Mind becomes clear as compression becomes dear as mental control leads to peace recognizable as cheer. It’s not, really, it’s no state of Being it is being in between when your slate’s become clear. Peace becomes the norm and you no longer react to every storm, you realize thunder and lightning are good now that the storm within is understood. And, eventually, you begin to notice the moments again. Like we did when we were kids. The beauty of breath. The good will that kindness foments. The inevitability of death. The Perfection of Peace and the onset of emotional and spiritual surcease. This is the goal that was ours from the start. We paid the heavy price of life so that wisdom might impart itself unto us in the meantime. This is the whole reason we left the Divine. Not so sublime, once you remember what to do. The question then becomes, can you?

Forever’s Grasp

Butterfly drops of love
resplendent auras of rainbow
joy permeates the sky

Transcendent opalescence shimmers
across clouds strewn across
the infinite span of forever’s
voice

Thrumming drumbeats of sound
rumble like drumsong through skies
alight with the wonder of life

Beating hearts strum like guitars
in tune with the effervescent bubbling
of the multiverse’s eternal expanse

Laughter becomes tears as beauty rises
filling vision and minds alight
with wonder and happiness

Children run and play amidst fields
of golden sunbursts splayed across
emerald carpets of living breath

Parents fill the moments of peace
with prayers of safety and wisdom
each thought a divine incantation

Grandparents watch lovingly their souls
expanding beyond life to meet that which
lies beyond forever within their grasp.

The Detritus of the Day

Thought fails to encompass
the entirety of Being

Words and phrases running
endlessly

Through minds awash in the
detritus of the day

Ruminations of mundane happenings
cycling without cease

Disrupting the Now with impressions
of yesterday and tomorrow’s imaginings

Fantasy becomes reality when thoughts
run amok

What is remembered becomes history
what is hoped for or feared the future

When neither is relevant to the magic
of the moment

We lose the precious gift of Being and Presence
to hopes and fears unrealized.