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
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!