god

A Wish For Freedom

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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

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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

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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

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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?

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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

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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.

Do Not Fear

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The heart says

Do not fear

Even if the danger seems imminent.

You must act

For the body’s safety

And as the conscience decrees,

Of course and most wisely,

But not from fear,

Not from an idea of future doom.

For the future is unborn,

Made of imaginings

And infinite potential

And all the combined karmas of the world:

And who can know that conundrum?

The now, however, is filled with love

And made of love

And witnessed by love,

And so too are all possible futures

Despite the dark veneers

That might come to pass.

And surely these dark illusions

Will tempt and prod

And precipitate

Any knot of fear held within the body,

Inviting the mind

To follow their bitter prospectuses

To a seemingly pitiful demise.

And perhaps you will be ensnared,

Caught fearful and flapping,

Making up facts

To fit the worry

You’ve whisked into a maelstrom.

Yet, you might pause

When fear offers its seductive hand,

Pause in the precious moment,

A moment with no past

Or combined future,

Just the here

In being and beauty –

A beauty never once touched

By fear’s tarnishing word.

And in this quite,

The heart’s voice

Offers silence

In a hundred multiples of love,

And fills the dawn

And itself in one

As love is unveiled

In its entirety,

Ever unfettered,

Never annulled

And never ever diminished.

Really, That Simple?

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Is it really

As simple

As remembering love,

Acknowledging

The love in being

And that being is love?

–

Is it as simple

As turning one’s head,

Looking inward

To the source

And seeing

That source is love?

–

Is it that simple

To notice the beautiful

Hidden before your eyes,

Hidden in plain sight,

Love at your centre

Brimming where it has always dwelt,

–

Love waiting with open arms

For you to see

And be one

With your heart,

Finally coming home

To the home you already are?

Sometimes I Get Lost

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Sometimes I’m lost in thought

Whisked away to darkness

And imaginings

Fraught and perilous,

But always I find my way back

To the sun, my heart

And the light of love inside.

–

And so

I too and fro,

Losing myself

And then re-finding

What cannot be lost,

Ever the sun, my heart

Ever is it shining.