In a world that is flowing,
Without coming or going,
Water begets a wave,
In a world that was never made.
Being of the ocean,
A wave but water in motion,
In essence not two but one,
Just like Father and Son.
Forgetting its source,
The wave sets a new course.
Having consumed the fruits of the sea,
The wave proclaims, "Not water but me!"
Intoxicated by this divisive potion,
Paradise is replaced by commotion.
A frozen wave in a melting sea,
I have forgotten how it use to be.
Chaos has been ushered in,
So I die again and again.
Searching for a plot of dry land,
Some place that I can stand.
Motivated solely by gain,
Everything is either pleasure or pain.
Bored to death with that and this,
I begin to compile a list.
I get to be tall,
When compared to small.
He is wrong so I am right,
Everything is black and white.
No longer water disguised as a wave,
I am an alien in a world that I have made.
The world of water now absurd,
I have become an island of words.
Dried up and dead,
All has been said,
But the pain still comes,
As this heart never goes numbs.
Just as water is always wet,
The hearts course is eternally set.
Sensitive and free,
Never ceasing to be,
This island has sprung a leak.
In silence the heart will forever speak,
Forever and ever calling to the sea.
Like a trickling spring,
Pouring forth from within,
This wave sings and sings,
A song without beginning or end.
Around and around,
Around me,
The water spins around.
Crashing and crashing,
The waves come crashing down.
As waves rush upon the shore,
I retreat to the center,
It becomes denser,
Collapsing at the core.
The island caves in,
Sending out waves for days on end.
Rising and falling,
Again and again,
Until all is settled,
No more pot- No more kettle.
The flood has come,
The island is gone,
All is done,
The heart is home.
Just as water begets the wave,
Silence is the mother of noise,
And by this void,
I am called by my true name.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Death of a Corpse
For he that exists but is not,
The time has come to mingle with space.
Exhausted is he, who for so long,
Has watched the death of his eyes.
A deafening roar pierces his heart,
A trail of blood of blood points to an old pine box,
The wake is observed no-one.
The time has come to mingle with space.
Exhausted is he, who for so long,
Has watched the death of his eyes.
A deafening roar pierces his heart,
A trail of blood of blood points to an old pine box,
The wake is observed no-one.
Cloud of Unknowing
Descending through a dark cloud,
Into a region of the mind that speaks in a strange tongue,
The five gates are over run by legions of provocative beasts.
Day in and day out,
I am cast down,
Again and again,
Into a violent world of my own design.
The shadows that populate the scene,
Both putrid and seductive in manner,
Are but bags of skin dangling from the distant past.
The tone self-conscious,
The rhythm anxious and barbaric,
Dancing with these hallucinations has become claustrophobic.
Trembling with fear a tearful incision is made.
Cutting through the womb of appearances
-Both the gorgeous and grotesque-
There is but one embryonic thought to be found.
Forgetting it was the answer,
This question became afraid of birth.
Incubated by self-deception,
It lost touch with the ground of being.
Like settling the surface of water with the palm of my hand,
My words scream back at me,
Reasoning sews only cloaks of sophistication,
And try as I might,
Its face cannot be seen.
Utterly defeated by this simple fear,
I surrender and cease to be.
As I merge with the space between this and that,
At once the fear dissolves,
As it was but a reflection of me.
The void is filled with my original face,
In a realm beyond time and space.
Not many or one,
It does not end as it never begun,
A perfect Truth which cannot be undone.
Into a region of the mind that speaks in a strange tongue,
The five gates are over run by legions of provocative beasts.
Day in and day out,
I am cast down,
Again and again,
Into a violent world of my own design.
The shadows that populate the scene,
Both putrid and seductive in manner,
Are but bags of skin dangling from the distant past.
The tone self-conscious,
The rhythm anxious and barbaric,
Dancing with these hallucinations has become claustrophobic.
Trembling with fear a tearful incision is made.
Cutting through the womb of appearances
-Both the gorgeous and grotesque-
There is but one embryonic thought to be found.
Forgetting it was the answer,
This question became afraid of birth.
Incubated by self-deception,
It lost touch with the ground of being.
Like settling the surface of water with the palm of my hand,
My words scream back at me,
Reasoning sews only cloaks of sophistication,
And try as I might,
Its face cannot be seen.
Utterly defeated by this simple fear,
I surrender and cease to be.
As I merge with the space between this and that,
At once the fear dissolves,
As it was but a reflection of me.
The void is filled with my original face,
In a realm beyond time and space.
Not many or one,
It does not end as it never begun,
A perfect Truth which cannot be undone.
Stopping What Hasn't Started
I cannot speak,
Because I cannot be silent.
I cannot become,
Because I am not.
I live in a coffin and die in a cradle,
Only to emerge as a single thought.
Because I cannot be silent.
I cannot become,
Because I am not.
I live in a coffin and die in a cradle,
Only to emerge as a single thought.
Spontaneous
The eyes see as the Sun shines.
Just as an apple is the tongue tastes.
The ears hear as the birds sing.
As the breeze blows the skin feels.
The nose smells as the flowers bloom.
As the clouds pass thought recollects.
Experience is beyond oversight,
If I try to poop I get hemorrhoids...
Just as an apple is the tongue tastes.
The ears hear as the birds sing.
As the breeze blows the skin feels.
The nose smells as the flowers bloom.
As the clouds pass thought recollects.
Experience is beyond oversight,
If I try to poop I get hemorrhoids...
Rebirth
Obsessively striving,
Trying to control that which is in perfect order.
Wandering about,
He scours the charnel grounds in search of he who was never lost.
Filled with nothing,
It paints a figure never seen,
On a canvas that never was.
At wits end,
This thirst is quenched in a lake of fire.
Obsessively striving…
Trying to control that which is in perfect order.
Wandering about,
He scours the charnel grounds in search of he who was never lost.
Filled with nothing,
It paints a figure never seen,
On a canvas that never was.
At wits end,
This thirst is quenched in a lake of fire.
Obsessively striving…
Prayer
Beyond the depths,
And all that stirs,
Rests a simple whisper.
Indestructible and pure,
This limitless presence,
Rains tears of joy,
Tearing through the clouds with bolts of Love.
In a flood of awareness,
This stillness speaks silently
Through a blade of grass
Calling back to a single vessel,
All that was lost in multiplicity.
And all that stirs,
Rests a simple whisper.
Indestructible and pure,
This limitless presence,
Rains tears of joy,
Tearing through the clouds with bolts of Love.
In a flood of awareness,
This stillness speaks silently
Through a blade of grass
Calling back to a single vessel,
All that was lost in multiplicity.
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