22 July 2015

Four Hundred and Eighty-Five


We are all wandering the quantum matrix.
Sometimes running, sometimes walking, sometimes standing,
Sometimes swimming, sometimes flying, sometimes waking, sometimes sleeping.
But of the same infinitely inexplicable mystery all the while.

* * * *
From cradle to grave, existence is in large part about consumption.
Whenever there is a hunger, the choice is to forgo it or feed it
Until the sensation no longer maintains it potent sway.
Moderation in all things ever proves itself the wisest policy.

* * * *
There are those who attain clarity, those in and out of the fog,
And those whose existences are forever a muddled quandary.

* * * *
What you perceive is also in its own fashion perceiving you.
The observer is the observed, the observed is the observer.

* * * *
By means great or small, your mortal conclusion is assured.
From formlessness to formlessness, a brief dream between.

* * * *
No matter how you will it so, you are of the quantum genesis,
And can never in more than in the filament of imagination part.

* * * *
You seek nirvana, bliss, grace, samadhi, call it what you will.
Well, just still the thoughts, detach from the world, and breathe.
Yet another perception in the ephemeral pool of quantum awareness,
Available whenever the given mind can to such indivisibility be managed.

* * * *
You believe that you exist,
But in which now are you the you that you pretend?
This one? … This one? … This one? … This one? … This one? … This one? …

* * * *
You really, despite a mind chock-full of so-called religious knowledge,
To which you cleave with such self-absorbed tenacity, do no know anything of the great unknown.
All you are doing is regurgitating the countless absurdities of universes forever undone,
Instead of fully living in the given right-here-right-now, free of all claims.