Inspired by mind

Endlessly Refreshing

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The air in me

Is not mine.

The bone and the flesh,

And deeper defined –

The vessels, the nerves, the cells,

And deeper still – the molecules bound,

Are not me or mine,

But companions

In a movement of time.

Am I the river, a stream?

Am I the wind,

Am I the rain?

Together we are something

And nothing.

But alive is

This dance of form expressing,

Unfolding, degrading, re-expressing,

For this world is but a wondrous garment,

Worn and tore down

Worn and torn down

Worn and torn down,

Endlessly refreshing.

Being

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Moving in the garden

My body is free

As new expectant air,

Mellow in the coming.

The push of bulbs

Rises through my limbs,

The sap called by the source

To come and become.

Is there better than being,

Just being?

The gnats know,

Ascribing their wisdom

In choreography

Written on the breeze

Where the afternoon is nothing

But a pale yellow light.

The End Of The World Is A Phone

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With but a look

I am entranced,

Sucked inside the screen

And away

From my body,

Away from the world.

With but a look

I am inside the flurry of images,

And away from outward stimulus,

And for a moment

Or an hour

Or a day,

That physical place

I call the outside

Ceases to exist at all.

Instantaneous

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When you see it,

It is there,

For your seeing is like the hand of God

Reaching out,

Touching the emptiness

And turning it golden and solid.

Hold the image in your mind’s eye

And it is done:

A thought

Realised in an instant,

Made in the moment,

In the very moment it was conceived.

For All

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The drunkard on the street

Begging with dirty fingers

Is no less worthy.

The banker mired in wealth,

Fiddling his taxes

Has access to everlasting love.

The warlord

Entrenched in violence

Could touch the eternal flame.

The everyman

Just getting on

Is a request away from energy.

The robber, the thief, the swindler,

And the police

Are equally entitled.

All are welcomed

Into the heart of love,

The sun inside, shining infinitely.

The Warmth

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Bathe in the warm sea

Of universal light,

For it is near,

As near as your body.

You can reach for it,

Ask for it to warm your heart,

For it is as close to you

As your famished thoughts.

You can have it.

It is yours and always was,

You just turned away

For the briefest everlasting moment.

Prayer

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I wish plenty on my enemy.

I wish him the whole world.

I wish him strength

And vitality,

Happy times,

Fulfilment of his desires

And speed in their unfold

So he does not wait or want

Or hunger or thirst.

I wish plenty on my enemy

And that he finds love in his heart

For friends and family,

For his beautiful children,

And all the folk

In his immediate familiarity.

I wish him warmth

So he might sit comfortable

Within his body,

His mind dipping

In the infinite flow of love,

His cells infused

With wealth

And wonder at it all;

His mind wishing plenty upon his enemy.

Future in Source

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The future is warm
Ripe with possibility.

#

What world could we conceive
If we held the hand of Source?
You’re right atheists
The dogma of religion doesn’t work,
It’s corrupted.
But Source is different,
Warmer, and emanating spectral energy
In wisps drawn ever down.
#
What world could we conceive
In limitless energy?
What world
When all are infused,
Our hearts awash with love,
Our bodies safe
And our fears released
So the weapon in our hand
Becomes the relic
Of an age surpassed,
So we may rise
And be the sun
On the very first dawn,
As we begin again
To work the world
With our hands
That are clean of brutality,
Empty of hateful past,
Naked like the child
Who comes unfettered
And glowing whole
To our doorsteps.

End Times

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Still the dogged pioneer spirit
Owning protocol and government.

Still the époque of first footsteps
On the shore of the new world.

Still strident explorers
Followed by makeshift populous.

Still the gold-rush
For buried commodity.

Still value of money
Above the the richness of place.

Still the dampening
Of primitive voice.

Still the damaging hand
Assassinating loveliness.

*

These are the end times
Of carelessness,
The deep tectonic shift
In the solitary man,
In the mind
Of every man,
From rootless
To gia-joined:
The umbilicus revealed
In waking of earth
In the feeling body
And connection
To all that was disembodied
And heartless pushed out.

These are the end times
And times of new beginning.

 

Copyright 2016 Ben Truesdale & distilledvoice

Both

~ distilledvoice ~ Leave a comment

In your opponents face,
In the coin toss –
You won
He lost,
He won
You lost

– You wear each others masks,
Feel the flip side feeling,
Touch
The sharing self,

Feel one side –
North
Or connected south –

Reservoir of sameness
Joined and spinning fast,

Bullyvictim psychology
Yoked like binary stars
In gravity entrapment,

Not two distinct,
But one swirling
Entity of both,

Like the coin flickering
Through its duplicity,
Showing
Its alternate pulsar sides.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015