18 July 2012

Sixteen

16


You are but ocean waves crashing into consciousness.
Little more than the pitter-pattering of rain on a window sill,
Or a babbling brook dancing across rocks on its way to the sea.

* * * *
You are that which some call God,
Some Allah, some Brahman, some Buddha.
All sounds denoting the same source
Cloaked in arbitrary dogma.
All you in one shape or another.

* * * *
A different day,
A different life,
A different form,
A different world,
A different universe,
Same Soul.

* * * *
More pain and suffering ahead.
If not today, then likely tomorrow,
Or certainly in the near soon.
Dread not,
If you can manage it.

* * * *
All the trivial labels are laughable reminders
Of how pointless words ultimately become
In the earnest inquiry into the truth within.

* * * *
It’s real enough while you’re dreaming it.
We’ll all be evaporating soon enough.

* * * *
Gold is gold, no matter the form.

* * * *
That which you seek is within.
It is what you really are,
Have always been,
Will ever be.