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Life on the Edge

September 13, 2011

There is a depth I fear to go.

It is deeper than psychology

but from there it manifests:

a feeling

 

without reference (but)

imagine a mote of dust

out of reach of sunbeams

carried by the whims of a current

that itself is but the whim of a whim

of a whim and so forth

of the wind or a fish

we are mute before echoes

 

“every one is an island”

often heard, but what a difference –

to hear and to feel –

every utterance is a falsity

but

“Art is the lie that makes you see the truth.”

 

is that hope?

all knowledge and custom are lies

to ourselves and not each other

but we lie to satisfy

and truth begets truth

is there hope?

 

the feeling is perhaps like

the bottom of ocean trenches

the dark side of the moon

isolated, cold and soundless

pressurizing emptiness

darkest night of the cosmos

or a foot away from family and friends

and no closer

hearts in cages in whitehouses

darkest night of the soul

 

even Awakened I am nothing

ego death reveals

black Void:

 

we will all be forgotten

our noble parents

our companions

our other halves

our regenerative legacies

we will all be

eroded

swept off

destroyed

buried

lost

erased

never remembered

we will all be forgotten

 

 

but still there is something

mystery overcomes even fear

maybe God is nothing but faith

and who is to say that when one believes

they are not themselves Manifest?

and who is to say that when one believes,

all whom one Sees is not Manifest?

 

But yet the Void! It is impregnable

and the high road beset by bandits

 

My heart implores to retreat in cower

My reason is rendered mute –

Something Awesome brushes by

 

and I am –

and all shall be –

relieved

reborn

ecstatic

saved

freed

as you should be

all you must say is “Yes”

so in Time, you shall be See

 

Something reminds me:

every thing is a microcosm

every thing is a macrocosm

still everything is different

yet everything points to God

like points on a sphere to the center

and the center to the points

Things are but thoughts of God

We walk guided dreams and mirrors

The void is but the Veil of God

for great Light may blind

 

“Tao is empty

yet it fills every vessel with endless supply

Tao is hidden

yet it shines in every corner of the universe”

 

Hip hop is a religion

America is an empire

Earth is a vessel

Power is given

Words are paintings

You are not your selves

Opinions rest on shoulders

Save yourself, save the world

 

Walk in holy indifference,

in empathetic clarity for

sinners are called

choose to be chosen

 

Death is not to be feared

Life is not to be impeded

Mephistopheles is selfless

Tao comes to us in music

galaxies swirl like hurricanes

and nebulae are beautiful

now and at the dying of light

birth draws near

 

This art That

Thou art That

That art God

Thou art God

 

There is a philosophia perennis.

 

I know nothing.

 

Remember: say “Yes”.

 

“Heaven gives

and all things turn out for the best

The Sage lives,

and all things go as Tao goes

all things move as the wind blows”

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From → Poetry

2 Comments
  1. I had to read this again because it was captivating. Well written. Sometimes we get into a certain way about things and what we are used to without giving ourselves an opportunity to really experience what life is…

  2. Brittain Sluder permalink

    Very true. There’s a saying I like that relates to what you said: “A way of seeing is a way of not seeing.”

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