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god
Instead
Instead the ever outward looking
For love
Turn inside yourself
To that which was always there;
Deepest well of formless infinity,
For there dwells life,
A heart-full of life
In abandonment to love,
Beautiful being of love.
–
There seem to be two options:
A movement into mind
And the stories we tell,
That swirl around
As so much fear.
Or the other way,
In the direction of self,
Detached from the fictions
And free
In the formless realms
So easily overlooked.
–
Instead the ever outward looking
For love
Turn inside yourself
To that which was always there;
Deepest well of formless infinity,
For there dwells life,
A heart-full of life
In abandonment to love,
Beautiful being of love.
I Dwells There
All things are drawn
To the crucible of the heart:
None are immune
Or impartial to its force.
And there
The matter of it
Is dissolved,
Brought to equality
And equanimity
By love’s dominance.
All are relieved,
All are forgiven,
For I dwells there
And yet dwells elsewhere
In the same instant,
Covering the whole of it,
Every dimension
And all far reaches.
I, the lover and the loved,
I, the being being,
I, the one and all,
Star-bright and all consuming,
Dematerialising that which it touches.
Sweetest Infinite Being
What other life
Could I live
But yours,
The life in you:
Sweetest infinite being.
Is this praise,
To fall into your arms,
To release
Every objectified form
Of its obligation
To fulfil?
For it is surely madness
To look for love
Outside the source of self,
Overlooking the sweetness
For a wearisome search.
Only in you
Is gentle salve,
Only in you
Is satisfaction,
Only in you
Is happiness.
To this, I am devotional
For this great love for you
Is love in me:
There are not two loves,
Not me and not you,
Not two,
For in love
We are one infinite being.
A Wish For Freedom
To the outside world
Goes the greedy hand
Backed by the greedy mind,
Collecting
Always collecting,
As if
All the stuff of ideas
Would make a person bold
And impervious to time.
–
But how heavy it is,
How imprisoning
This reputation we call ourselves,
How enslaving
To be caged
When the deeper self
Is infinitely free.
–
A thought occurs:
To release the clothes
I thought myself,
To lie back and relax
In nakedness,
For I am not a thing in this world
But that which knows
All myriad happenings.
–
This is my wish for freedom:
A wish that settles like sediment
A wish that diminishes to peace
A wish that quietens to nothing,
Ebbs to wishlessness
And dies like a sunset.
Sharing Love
At first
There is an arm around your shoulder
As you realise
Your mind has spiralled in fear,
But then love
Hugs to your being
As if you were lifted,
Buoyed upon the heart’s
Opening up.
And now in the eyes
And in the body
Warmth flows,
And to look upon the world
Is to look in love,
For love loves
To all else’s detriment.
And even to look upon fear
With love is to understand:
It’s to offer a hand
To what seemed unloveable
And know it inert,
Know it powerless,
Know it wholly loved,
For fear is but a thought
Held shadowy,
Fear is the mind shunning
It’s greater nature,
Fear is the heartless mind
Mired in calculation,
Holding out
Yet awaiting its moment;
The inevitable cascade of love,
The overwhelming truth of God,
The totality asserting itself
Over separateness
And the illusion
That love is not the all of it.
The Artist’s Way
Immersed in the landscape
Or fixated on an object,
This artist does not paint
What his eyes see,
Rather, he absorbs the sight,
Places it
In the cauldron of his being
Where life seeps
As the language of the soul.
It is this he paints,
This aliveness
Mirroring landscape or thing:
His spirit
And God’s spirit
Dancing as one
Infinite being,
And reaching out
To his poised fingers,
To transform the inanimate
And deliver magic on the canvas,
Every stroke of his brush imbued
With the inward spirit he feels.
Like The Clock
Like the clock
Whose ticking
You no longer hear,
And like the picture
You pass every day
That’s almost disappeared,
And like the wedding band
On your finger,
Now part of you,
And like the beautiful view
These days seldom seen:
Like these
Being is present
As it’s always been,
There, at the centre of you,
The background of you,
The you of you:
Knowable only in its knowing,
Realised only in realisation,
Noticed only when you notice
You are.
Where Is Heaven?
Where is heaven?
Only here
With the past drawn up
And collected
Like the skirts of time
Were no longer historic,
Nor paid much mind,
The future too
Is clawed back home
Until the now is pure and plump
And filled to brimming with love:
And the measurement of things
Is scrapped
And swapped
For the absolute value
Of the universe,
The self brought
Wholly to heart.
Never Too Late
Never too late to acknowledge love:
The love that beats in every heart,
Sustains every self,
Brims ever full
And ever beautiful:
There in ignorance
Or in knowing,
Binding us to the world,
Bringing us the world,
Allowing us to be
As we are,
Free in the conundrum
And wonder of it all.
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