12 May 2014

One Hundred and Fourteen


Those to whom unconditional freedom is the highest calling,
Are likely nearest to discerning the all-encompassing nature.

* * * *
Despite all the countless flurries of imagination
Playing out in every nook, every cranny of consciousness,
There is really nowhere to be, nowhere to go,
But right here, right now.

* * * *
Seal off the senses like a sovereign would castle walls,
Like a martial artist would five opponents,
Untouched, timeless, free, absolute,
A bubble unto thy Self.

* * * *
You never know what the Fates have in store.
Best be ready for anything dreamtime allows.

* * * *
You are left a meager trail of breadcrumbs
That perchance you will find your way
Through the darkness soon to fall.

* * * *
Impossible to be more, impossible to be less.

* * * *
Of a vast array of potentials this day offered,
Was there really even an iota of choice in it?

* * * *
Beauty can be the promise of any number of lies.

* * * *
If you really get down to brass tacks,
Real religion, if such a thing is even necessary,
Must surely be a moment-to-moment state of mindfulness.

* * * *
An absolute wellspring of irony, paradox, doubt and absurdity,
That is what you must be, indeed, to wantonly, brazenly, fearlessly,
Recklessly peer behind the imaginary veil of this vaporous Oz.