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A Return to Self

this is a return to self and earth

departing for nowhere, arriving everywhere

he who seeks shall find no knowledge

in this he learns all

as the eye cannot see itself

so too, the knower cannot know itself

the knower can never be made an object of its own knowledge

therefore, knowledge is arisen by knower

just as knower is arisen by knowledge

to be or not to be is not the question

for all things arise mutually and together

ceaselessly a-swing the pendulum of forever

adrift assail the tomorrow of yesterday

my present the passage of futureless ashes

adrift aghast on todays yesterday

my present the current of passageless ashes

thus lost alone midswim eternity

somewhere my heart was turned in sync with i

and so on i swim, through the abyss, for no end of ages shall pass

when i remember forever who i am at last

this truth is beyond the intellect

so think not!

for the silence surely speaks best

oh screams does the silence!

not another spoken word

of writ my thoughts are echoed

of scripted ink i sing!

here was found eternity’s secret

the end of all philosophy begins the question ageless

is man the dream of dolphins

or the dolphins a dream of man?

all is indeed but a dream we see or seem

dream this dream in sync with the seen

as the seer and seen in sync is seeing

ceaseless expressioning of which is

the profound enigma of being in timeless flux

then and now and form and void

encompassing each other

just as a circle when thought in dual becomes the wave

so too the realm of being when thought in two arises life and death

am i breathing or am i being breathed?

wonder i do oft, how such to ask without inquiring

your memory, thou art not

said before now i remember, tat tvam asi!

for truth is known by those who know it not

the game of being : yes and no

now you see, now you don’t

the conquest of nature can indeed be

achieved through measurement and number

a conceptual holograph cast onto chaos

the stomach of the void

confuse not the coding for the code

thought becomes the drug with which one cannot part

jumping compulsively to follow thought alone

the real world we’d rather photograph than know

money becomes the wealth, pursuit becomes the pleasure

but happiness cannot be pursued

the butterfly lands upon my head

i noticed three hours ago

as a flower blooms from its core simultaneously together

so too does a flowering of consciousness radiate from within

'eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani?’ the final words of Christ

my beloved, my beloved, the heart we hath within each other

why do you injure me? i Am, your self

why do you injure me? i am the Self in You!

mistaking constellations for the stars

the finger of a buddha for the tao

religions rise above the ashes of awakened beings

master syntheses of pattern that we destroyed out of blindness and fear!

truly the child has the wisdom

collecting pebbles on the shore

we are only really ever a single moment old

we are old and young, nondual and timeless

welcome to immortality

knock and the door shall be opened

and one day like a lightning strike

a chord jumps into sync with the heard and the seen

immortality enshrined

alit incandescent against eternity’s belt

join the dance of the mystic

sharing in a peace which passeth understanding

immovable calm, the mind, imperturbable

in thus consummate resolve i drift aboard delight

and in marriage with the courage to trust thyself aright

sometimes i float in the deep of endless depths

fathomless bottoms devoid of luminescence

but here i rage no more against a dying of the light

for death i do not damn for how could death be damned!

such damnation is the symptom of madness!

we can be certain then that a damning of the light of death

departs away from truth, forsaking life, leaving life betrayed

witness now the tale of husband death

death walks the invisible world

in which live the realms of invisible beings

of these realms there is a peculiar set, they call themselves human beings

in the abyssal depth of death’s invisible world

there appear like holograms in the space of the empty

materializing, mysteriously, into dangling densities

eccentric ghostly figurines against the backdrop of the void

now the king of death had one rule only

which all beings that are visiting must accept

do not extend your invitation to my paradise

ere shall i annihilate. enjoy my welcome. that is all

for eons past and futures far alike

the abyss of the void of the realm of death

is ever momently purged to keep his invisible world... tidy

but persistently is there ever unwelcome visitors

apparently having failed to respect proper guest routine

manners so absent that even death raises a brow

and therefore shoots the queen of life a glance

having all the appearance of an expression of a demon’s that is gleaming

i just cannot understand, the devil said, speaking of the rascals

which take advantage of his hospitality,

relaxing with the queen of life sitting ‘neath a ginkgo tree,

how they overstay their welcome!

addicted they are, replied the wife of life, to material

so much so apparently, they identify themselves

with their densely bodies and are tricked

by their physicality with your hospitality

how odd they think we envy them, desiring mortality! uttered husband death

you’re exactly right, replied the queen of life, how little they know of life. . .

(her voice pierced the logosphere, a tune too perfect to hear)

like the lonely flower, beautiful for no one. . .

like this butterfly, beautiful for me. . .

and all the sky in water blue, beautiful for you. . .

her song penetrated every corner of the world

over every land and sea her voice reverberated

the secret untold which keeps itself! she cried

but these notes of honey settle rare on ear or eye

dewdrops they, of joyous myurakuli!