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The Mind is Deathless

The silence everlasting is, but no one who listens.

Listening there is, yet no one who watches the witnessing mind.

Awareness alone exists, nondual reality.

The mind is deathless, there is only eternal mindedness.

In thought we are all one, even in the spaces between.

Infinite intelligence is verily the essence of existence.

Existence hasn't a name for it as It is the birth of names.

By contemplation its miracle made clearly manifest within the I of Mind.

Existence is a candle lit incandesent against the backdrop of the Void.

Flickers forever the flame of satchitananda, luminous shining darkness beyond darkness.

Compelled to seek that which cannot be found by the Self looking for itself.

There is no one that can be made an object of its own knowledge.

You are what you are looking for, but you never find it,

anymore than your image in the looking glass can be actually possessed.

You can never be the object of your own thought.

Your true mind is like the great infinite vastness of universal space.

Nothing can contaminate space.

Space itself is what isn't there, and so gives definition to things in space.

The true Mind is what gives definition to the contents of itself that is thought.

The true Mind is the theater in which the play of the divine imagination unfolds relative to the intentive directive of the intellect.

The intellect speaks, it speaks out of the Silence, no witness.

The silence everlasting is, but no one who listens.

Listening there is, yet no one who watches the witnessing mind.

Awareness alone exists, nondual reality.

The mind is deathless, there is only eternal mindedness.



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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.”