21 June 2014

Two Hundred and Seven


Human beings are in reality very much the same as every other life form on this planet.
We may be able to create, preserve, and destroy in every imaginable way,
But all are of the same mysterious, inexplicable origin.
Absolutely, indivisibly, immeasurably equal,
Despite countless pride-filled,
Self-absorbed claims to the contrary.

* * * *
Rambling thoughts are the pattern of the rutted mind bound in time.
Complete, unattached attention to the passing moment
Returns the inner eye to the tabula rasa
Of the eternal witness.

* * * *
Every mind its own shifting quagmire of heaven and hell,
Based on a frame of reference ever born of imagination.

* * * *
Why accept anyone else’s word for anything,
When you have your own insightful mind
With which to discern the truth for your Self.

* * * *
You have been played from before day one.
The collusion was forged in jungles long ago.

* * * *
Philosophy is bullshit that passes the time
When you are not hungry or weary or slothful,
And ethics is a fun drinking game in the wee hours.

* * * *
One might aid in easing another’s existence,
But in this mortal theater of travail, woe, and agony,
Laced with ceaseless narcissism and never-ending absurdity,
No one has ever, or will ever, save anyone else, much less themselves.

* * * *
In the times that are quickly advancing from the horizon toward us all,
Things across the globe will deteriorate and renew in every imaginable way,
From chaos to cooperation, from absurdity to sensibility, from agony to ecstasy,
As this world, fragmented by human pride, downshifts into a paradigm of a lesser way.
No one born into it can evade it, no one born into it can do anything but abide it.