healing

Dr Maya

~ distilledvoice ~ 1 Comment

I do not really comprehend

What mysteries unfolded

In the heart of this place,

But what I can discern

Is that I am moved

In ways beyond my understanding,

My body and my mind

Touched by the work of love.

I feel it in the antenna of myself

And in the knowing

Where love meets love,

And in the opening to the greater union.

Some may let this seeing slide

And go unacknowledged,

But my heart swells

To say this truth out loud

And bow to the profundity

Come upon me.

I stand grateful before you

And thankful for the alignment of the stars,

Your lineage

And your guru’s touch

That saw you born as I am born

To the wonder of it all,

The blessed fall into the ground of being.

Future in Source

~ distilledvoice ~ 1 Comment
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.

Solvent Self

~ distilledvoice ~ 4 Comments

In a vat of solvent self
Dissolve
The misodgynists,
The sexists,
The feminists,
The chauvinists,
The racists
And the belief in race.

Come clean
Of factions
And clothes born
Of woven ideas.

Come clean
Of rightness certainty
When wrongness dwells ugly
In the world,
Despised in the eyes despising.

Dissolve all but the body
So every baggaged word
And every loaded thought
Washes clean
Of the child skin
And perception uncluttered.

Now, arise O beautiful
Painted epidermal rainbow:
Matter not your fine colour
Or your sex
Or the changing whims
Of thoughts
On their long journey
Through conundrum unraveling.

Anchor in the free form
Of love instead
And hold each tight conviction
As if it were loose
In the hand,
Without limpet fear protection
Bandaged to its health.

Arise O beautiful life,
Undecided in thought
Like the open eyed babe
Who once entered
This world,
But forgot –
With each brick wall decision,
Layered in the constructed self
– that he was free,
Without encumbrance
And the useful/useless adherence
To the painful past.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016