01 September 2014

Three Hundred and Sixteen


You are not the body or the mind; you are not the left hand or the right.
You are not the eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, nor the layers of nerve-ridden flesh.
You are not the heart or any other organ, nor are you the tip of the biggest toe.
You are naught but awareness, as ethereally ephemeral as any cloud.

* * * *
What courage it takes to stand alone and be that which you truly are.
Do not abide the many true believers who say it cannot be,
For who are the blasphemers but those who deny
The truth that is within and without all.

* * * *
And who are the savages, and who are the civilized,
Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?

* * * *
Truth is much less than the concept implies.

* * * *
Resistance to the reality within and without
Is but an every-moment exercise in futility.

* * * *
It does not have to make any sense, you know.
The mystery of it all is really far too inexplicable
To ever wrap even the most immortal head around.

* * * *
How would all the intelligence
Playing out in this manifest dreamtime world
Be possible if it were not inherent within the quantum source?
Intelligent design, indeed.

* * * *
If you love one and hate another,
The odds are good that your interpretation of love
Is not as unqualified or enduring as you would like others to believe.

* * * *
Perception is always such a muddy-waters thing
Because the input of the senses is whittled down so thoroughly
By the filtration process as it wanders through the patterning of the given mind.
Conditioning is the weaver of all dreams.