30 May 2014

One Hundred and Fifty-Three


There is only this infinitesimal, ethereal moment,
Untainted by any creation consciousness, heart or mind, has ever invoked.
And you are it, and it is you, pure and simple, free.
There is nothing more.

* * * *
Abide and endure, perhaps even enjoy the pride and prejudice of it all.
An inconstant dream of inconsequential heights and depths.
The challenge is not getting too attached to it.

* * * *
Another true believer spewing the speculation he asserts is truth.

* * * *
The sheen can never attain the reality upon which it shines.

* * * *
It is dwelling upon differences that brings about pain.

* * * *
The mind, collection of vague perceptions that it is,
Is no more than what has come and gone,
Even when imagining the future.

* * * *
So many things about which to care, or not.

* * * *
What need for anything
When everything blows to and fro,
From here to there, there to here, and back again,
In the ever-changing, vagrant dreaming
Of the ever-unfolding now.

* * * *
The pretense of all identity is entirely imagined,
A collective collusion passed on to every generation.
The blind leading the blind to a synergistic conclusion.

* * * *
To believe the awareness is yours or anyone else’s,
Is a misguided assumption without any validity, whatsoever.
A complete misapprehension of the essential commonality of all creation.