12 May 2014

One Hundred and Sixteen


When you are fully absorbed by that which is prior to consciousness,
All concern for the play of time and space is swallowed up
By the everlasting nature, the one without second,
Known by myriad names, but truly known
By only those indeed most rare.

* * * *
The immediacy of the ever-present now is just too impossible
For the mind born of time and space to comprehend,
So it steadfastly clings to whatever dream
It is determined to perceive.

* * * *
The ability to weave concepts into manifest reality
Carries with it an inherent responsibility
To use them somewhat wisely.
Alas, would that it were so apparent to all.

* * * *
About as predictable as a thumbscrew.

* * * *
Your immortality is the streaming now.

* * * *
Instinct is the foundation
Upon which consciousness is birthed,
Yet the jewel crest of awareness is for few to discern.
Wisdom is the untainted journey of godness,
A path to which many are called,
But few are chosen.

* * * *
By the end of your existence,
If you are not at least somewhat content,
Then what, pray tell, Pilgrim, what has been the point?

* * * *
How can you help anyone who lacks the wit and courage to doubt?

* * * *
It is not in time and space through which you have always believed you wander,
But in the dream of time and space inspired by imagination’s sensory hologram.