29 September 2012

Forty-Three


43


The journey of awakening to the indivisible seems an individual struggle,
An awareness of the vast totality to which the human species
May or may not be capable of collectively partaking
Before the temporal dream of consciousness
Reaches its inevitable conclusion.
Oh well and so it goes.
Never really mattered anyway.

* * * *
As many grooves, deep or shallow,
That one may have etched upon life’s soundtrack,
It is still nothing more than a brief collection of vague memories.
That is truly all it is, has ever been, will ever be.
In the dreamtime of any given universe.
Wishing vanity to count for more
Will never ever make it so.

* * * *
If anything is sacred, everything is sacred.
If everything is sacred, nothing is sacred.

* * * *
Anything can be usurped.
Anything can be distorted.
Anything can be rationalized.
Anything can be obliterated.

* * * *
It has ever been the same.
Only the universe changes.

* * * *
You must step back
Very far, very deep within,
To discern the reality you truly are.

* * * *
What is human history but a ceaseless struggle
Over whose imagination should reign.
Who was the first to come up with the fanciful notion
That we vain two-leggeds might someday, somehow, all come together
Into one big happily-dancing-Age-of-Aquarius family?
Out-and-out balderdash, to be sure.


Forty-Two


42


Both believer and atheist
Pretend to know there is or is not a god.
But that you are is really the only fact worth considering,
And of the source of this infinite mystery, no one can really know anything.
Of the ultimate truth, the most earnest remain agnostic.

* * * *
There is likely a fair-to-middling amount of history remaining
For humankind to play out its ceaseless passions
And, alas, there’s not much money
On it being very pretty.

* * * *
Ignorance has always worshipped one rock or another.
Intelligent design is a far more infinite source
Than any dogma will ever ascertain.

* * * *
So many as affluent as anyone can possibly be,
And still they want more, more, more.
How do you run that hard
On empty?

* * * *
Time being what it is, and what it is not,
How could it be, really, that any deity
Was any younger or older than you?

* * * *
Who is the who, who does anything?
Question the doership, question the who.

* * * *
Surely, that which is godness, that which is truth,
Is far, far greater than any vanity would ever allow.

* * * *
My story, your story, his story, her story, our story, the story.
All simultaneous; all absolutely, indivisibly, eternally imagined.

* * * *
Good and evil are dualistic, arbitrary notions created by consciousness.
They are nothing more than echoes across the expanses of the singularity.


19 September 2012

Forty-One


41


What will it be like to never have to bother
About this human or any other mortal condition ever again?
No meaning, no purpose, no desire, no fear, no pain, no suffering, no ego, no vanity.
No physical, no mental, no emotional concerns one way or another.
Nirvana, serenity, bliss, call it what you will,
Just die to it all now.

* * * *
Long before it was ever said and done, you were on your own.
After it is said and done, you will be on your own.
And while it is being said and done,
You are on your own.

* * * *
Everything manifest,
And the time through which it wafts,
Is the complete and utter construction of imagination.
For in the nowness, there is only eternity,
And the witness abiding all.

* * * *
Any given scientist in any given field
Can only offer as objective an observation
As the relativity of subjectivity allows.

* * * *
Mother Nature will teach you
Everything you need to know,
If you can survive the lesson.

* * * *
What is real?  And what is not real?
And how real can real ever really be?

* * * *
What are the so-called chakras but nerve centers,
Hubs to vast universes born of sensory fabrication.

* * * *
Being untrue or unkind with your words,
Taking anything personally, making assumptions, not doing your best,
Not questioning all things profoundly, not listening,
What good ever comes of it?


18 September 2012

Forty


40


How long are we going to quarrel
Over which dogma is true,
Which version of the mystery is real,
When the only thing that has ever really been argued
Are the imaginings born of one geographical assumption or another.

* * * *
The awareness at the source of all manifestation will ever wander along
With whatever dream consciousness wishes to play out.
Creation, preservation, destruction,
You choose.

* * * *
History is a capricious thing.
It generally only reminisces the survivors,
And in the rise and fall of all things, everyone eventually loses.
So what does that say about the whirl
And all its ado?

* * * *
But what can you really want, expect, or hope from those
Who do not comprehend the relativity of all differences?

* * * *
Any given religion was once a cult.
And every cult was a fabrication
Founded on a pack of assumptions
Likely concocted by a charismatic persona,
Willingly accepted by a small group prone to following,
Who conditioned their progeny to believe with little or no question,
And voilà, yet another organized religion is born
To brew what havoc it surely will.
All too predictable.

* * * *
The ultimate reality is that each and every one of us
Has the opportunity to discern the mystery we all equally are.
But the conditioning, the mindsets, the traditions, the dogmas, the memes,
The identification of consciousness with the mind, the heart, the body, the world, the universe,
Have humankind locked in a stranglehold entirely of its own imaginary creation.
We are on a sure an unwavering course toward self-destruction,
A unfolding well beyond the point of no return.
What will come of it is the pulp of dystopian fiction.