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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!

so few these are, are those invisible to me

and so sighed the king of death

but his spirits were uplifted not long after

the lovely wife of life undressed her luminous gown

mystic’ly aglow, of the softest moonlit violet-blue

entering the pond of eternity she made not a ripple

her tresses silky deathless find their course aflux

along in motion on her shoulders softly pale

but beneath the tresses – arest on breasts divine

beats behind the breasts divine the immortal heart of light

the goddess life

how fantastic!

everywhere resounds the knowledge

a starwink blinks satori

from neuronal trees to dendritic leaves

from forces nuclear to the gravities of stars

from thumping hearts to magnetic blinking pulsars

from the pupil of a galaxy to the black abyss of the eye

like large like small, bi-polar and non-dual

infinitely inward the atom’s fractal interior

unboundedly outward universes encircle our own

the quintessence of unity refracts repeats in all directions

like a vast void of mirrors facing each other every which way

infinitely reflections reflecting reflections

the source of which, being utterly inescapable from my knowledge

every level yes every layer is as middle in the spectrum

as is every other level and every other layer along the continuum of forever

itself extending indefinitely everywhere

it is eternal, but transcends eternity

it would be better to call it timeless

better still, call it . . .

and you are that

aft last breath, no delay

‘fore a newborn first inhales

breath and freedom are the same

and defensive walls invite attack

the genuinely unguarded are never destroyed

beyond knower and known is true gnosis

of which is arisen the everlasting principle : not this. not that.

the universe is more an organism than an engine

more a work of art than a mission

designing itself self-so as it goes

never the same before as it is right now

its identity the play of artists

its meaning the dance of mystics

but always its justification is simply itself

and this perforce compels of thought the what the when and which!

but if for such it is, that i think ‘therefore’ i am

doth recede the leaf but first and only after

it checks its planned departure with the counsel of the tree?

and so saith the oak in the language of its branches

fall from me dear leaf, on your own volition

and so should thee depart from me

let go and fall arest upon my ground of being

to make a master of your own

for seeds of being bloom in fields fertile to their flowering

an undulation of consciousness are we, of life and death

and taken together constitute the river of eternity

and we drift along not by it as if logs were we

but rather with it of it for we are the stream

everywhere flowing on nowhere

thus we call living a form of dying

and dying a form of living

they are different yes, but not separate

like our breathing, in and out, not disparate

like magnetic dipoles, positive and not positive

that is ceaseless being!

‘non-being’ is inconceivable insofar as it cannot be conceived

lying outside conceivability

there is very simply. . .

simply such! just thus, suchness. . .

and of suchness, of thus, no-suchness

such is thus! just such, thusness. . .

and of thusness, of such, no-thusness

of what is such of thus and thus of such is i

the wave of existing~not-existing, is timeless being!

there is not then, a non existing 'not-existing'

(which they call 'non-being') but only being!

we might as well just roar with laughter!

consider, the region of no-sight in the eye

black, black, no-blackness : the domain of nothingness in myself

yes, therein deep that blackness is myself

this blankness behind the eyes is a non-dual non-space

non-time not-this not-that not-anything is it

here contrast is annihilated

for demarcation lines cannot outlast oblivion

i kill no ghost

as i’m taken into the mirror

i see there nobody!

who is it who sees?

(and thus forms from everywheres a riddle)

there is first the eye of mind

and then the eyes

hence what i imagine and what i see

which one of these is the real of the three?

in departure for the realm of out-of-mind

to a rebirth of that which is felt

by way of our senses, coming to see without seeing

hear without hearing, and think without thinking

what begins a small flame can set fire to the world

meet wisdom meet madness and genius

meet buddha meet shaman and mystic

the advice of sages has always been

of all eons and times, walk on

genius is the madness of the artist

artistry the genius of that madness

delightfully the mystic swims the deep enchanted out of thought

frighten with oblivion (death) can not the mystic who sails the abyss for fun!

knowledge is limited, imagination is infinite, a madman has written

the marriage of faith and courage is the path

to the paradise of immortality

true courage is a letting go of everything

and faith if true is trusting the unknown

and in this unknown is your own nature


are you not everywhere?

for surely and truly that art thou

enblissed enjoyed to echo eternity’s ring!

a song, is it eternal? yes! there is a voice forever

and you are it, this divine logos

be free and trust thyself

language itself is the method of melody

and since ancient times it has been called the logos

it’s even called the implicit order

beyond death and life

(caveat lector, for we are entering into dream)

from the implicit logos there arise explicit voices

and from this seabed of empty void

mnemosyne sings through the mind of all beings

think of the waving of the ocean

each crest falls into trough

for trough to manifest again the crest

rising to fall to fall to rise

together cresting and troughing we have a waving!

and just as each wave is like a waving of the ocean

each life is like an aperture, through which the void looks out

and sees its infinite form, manifested as the world

each life a bell ringing

each star a void winking

each being a soul embering

every mind a dream imagining

if this is understood

and have de-constructed defenses in earnest

both faith and courage true

we walk on naked and shameless unguarded. . .

to whom death is not a stranger

for whom death is not the enemy

this one walks immortal

this one lives eternally

swimming joyous perhaps alone

set free from problems armed not with false knowledge

we soar through the infinity of mind-space free from destination

we tap the waters of the waterfall that i should dare to call divine

the waters crystal clear reflection, an invitation, to fearlessly imagine

rhythmical reveries of eternality

embodied in the springs of sources joyous

thought is flesh and flesh is word

in the beginning was the word remember?

blood and bone reverb the word!

it is the division itself which is the unity

our monkey selves may be accelerating the rate of cosmic expansion

by virtue of merely looking into a telescope

she is irreducible because she is You

further and further accelerating the rate at which we invent new languages

we are, in effect, driving the evolution of our consciousness forward

to higher and higher realms of complexification and self-reflection

there is not a difference between universe and self

there is not a difference between humanity and self

with each new species of language that is generated

higher orders of complexity are compounding with the last

into some kind of super meta-language

a language of all languages, but never returning to its prior and simpler kind

this trajectory of excelsior acceleration towards technologies unthinkable

is for novelty, for artistry, for illimitable reachings out into forever

why? there is no why just as there is no try

this seems to be the tendency of the speaking logos

more near to the nature of artistry than machinery

can we now begin to pay attention?

where there is seeming there is seeing

the past does not create the present - now creates the past

our memories are only half of our self

and so find we ourselves adrift the ineffable shores of mystery

aboard not an unsolvable problem

but midswim the sea of eternal being

blinking in and blinking out like the winking starlights of the skies

that is the nature of consciousness

each mind a singularity

the present extraordinary

every blink a satori

the ultimate of the moment is the moment of the ultimate

past and future now-ever as

the frog sits on a lily pad

beginnings pass now-ever through

the sourceless nature of change is the source of joy abiding

i am ageless

see here this incense stick

smoke rises

beyond beginnings we return, re-membered

though there never was a first departure

here is there, there-here, ever-where, when?

hence, then! no. here-in! nowever we swim

and this is not the end - never an end

so pay attention at midnight

and pay attention at midday

pay attention at birth

pay attention at death

"in the way the day will flow"

“all things come… all things go…”

the wise let go of what they know

yes the wise let go of what they know


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I am nothing more than a passing ghost through the dream you call life.


“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”

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