05 July 2014

Two Hundred and Forty-Nine


Every moment is born anew.
It is your own choice to imagine that time is real,
Your own choice to be free or not, your own choice to suffer or not.
There is no one, really, compelling you to do anything
That you do not voluntarily relinquish
Out of one fear or another.

* * * *
How can there ever be a line between within and without,
When neither are more than imaginary concepts
With no ultimate reality, whatsoever.
You are ever it, it is ever you,
There is no other.

* * * *
To truly listen, to hear with your entire being,
Without any thought, any judgment,
You must be willing and able
To completely give yourself over
To the babbling brook of another’s dream.

* * * *
Cannot stop fate … it is already written.
You just need to reach the last page
In a book without conclusion.

* * * *
Many a woman has paid the price
In picking an unsuitable mate.
And, of course, visa-versa.
God loves dice, Mr. Einstein.

* * * *
Awareness is only in it for the ride.
For those who see reality
For what it truly is,
There is neither gain nor loss
In all the knowledge, all the piles of gold,
Or all of the myriad experiences any given life offers.

* * * *
What is the human species but an unrivaled product of evolution
With far too much tool-making ability for its mother's own good.