25 July 2015

Four Hundred and Ninety-Three


That the cosmos, that you, exist at all, is beyond the scope of all rationality, all sensibility,
And yet why should the ultimate truth not be forever impenetrable, unfathomable, inscrutable?
Why should it, how could it, ever be required or obligated to make any sense whatsoever
To any but the relatively rare few inexplicably called to witness its indelible way.

* * * *
And in that oblivion, that obscurity, that emptiness, that gap, that space,
That abyss, that vacuum, that void, that nothingness,
That nada of awareness, you are.

* * * *
Unhook the engine, let loose all the baggage cars.
Be that sharp-cutting-edge, up-front-and-center awareness,
That which was never born, that which never dies,
That which you truly are and are not.

* * * *
Even if there is some on-high deity,
What need to constantly bow and scrape?
What need to tarry in guilt and self-loathing?
What need to again and again pray for forgiveness?
What need to beg for what is not freely given?
What need to give thanks even once?
What point projecting vanity
On that which should have none?

* * * *
Real spirituality is a solitary endeavor.
If you are following some beguiling personality,
Or participating in some sort of intoxicating groupthink,
Rest assured that you need to push the reset button.

* * * *
What you do or say today
In no way makes you duty bound
To play it the same in any given tomorrow.
It is nothing more than vanity that strikes a bargain
That you incarnate the same persona from one day to the next.

* * * *
Be the world, the cosmos, everything you imagine it might contain.
Do not be held back by the innumerable limits of your given conditioning.
Stand alone, absolute, indivisible, inscrutable, the zenith of your panoramic view.