05 September 2012

Thirty-Four


34


What is not to appreciate about the reality, that That from which you are created,
Is absolutely indifferent to your vain pretense of an existence.
Oblivion is the destiny of all creations.
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
How small is small?  How large is large?  How real is real?
Science can only measure as much as it has gadgets
To extend its feeble reach and limited vision.

* * * *
You are in the great reality no different
Than a shifting grain of sand,
A mildly wafting breeze,
A crashing wave.
Or a flickering flame.
Earth … Wind … Water … Fire,
And the Ether in which they together dance,
They are you, and you, them.

* * * *
Through the ages,
You have awakened to Self
In many forms, many places, many ways.
To believe only humankind capable of enlightenment
Is the limiting ignorance of self-absorption.
Self is without any bounds.

* * * *
Settle for creed, and you will live out existence
According to the will of some other or another,
None of whom really know any more than you.

* * * *
This moment would know no other moment
If not for the play of memory
Founded upon a neurological mutation
That began evolving when Eden was but a garden.
There is only past and future in the movement of consciousness.

* * * *
The measurement of all that is manifest in this vast theater of time and space
Is really nothing more than a vain attempt to quantify the immeasurable’s sheen.