Like a child of the universe
My heart drinks
The love
That comes
In a flow
Of warmth
Like the breath
Of my beloved.
At base level
The heart is a pump
An organ of flesh
Higher
It is organ of feeling
Floating on an emotive sea
And yet higher still
It is receiver
Of higher dimension
And the portal
Through which
The universe
Feeds its children
An opening through which
Love pours
Into self
Ignites the body to living
And lifts
Everything it touches
With light
Owned
By none
But God.
love
Dearest
Dearest,
For one moment
Rest
The machine in your head.
Sometimes it seems
So overwhelming, I know -
Those thoughts thinking
Way too fast,
Exploring all sorts
Of dark passageways.
And sometimes
You think those passageways
Are the vesicles
Of your heart,
And at the depth of you
Is a crypt
Where there is something
On which
You should never ever look.
No, no, no,
Hear me now child of love,
This is not your heart
But cobwebs
Made to look
Like fearful things.
Your heart is beside you now
Beautiful child,
She stands with you
In the space of always.
And if there are cobwebs
She loves them.
And if there are fearful things
She holds them in her arms
And loves them too.
Dearest,
Do not believe the world
That says you’re lost
To She
Who loves you always.
Do not believe that world
High on separate thought.
Feel instead
The warmth
That stands beside you always.
Dearest,
You are loved by She
And truly,
It can be
No other way.
What If
What if
Words became tears
And logic
Became a lozenge
Dissolving on the tongue
And we dispensed
With the dry bones
Of loveless ideas
And gazed instead
Into the eyes
Of someone we love
Finding there
The letters of our name
Disentangled
From their sentence form
And washed down our cheeks
Like pebbles in a stream
Banked
Upon the slow curve
Of the river’s turn.
What was once
In thought
Is disassembled
And then reconfigured
In the writing works
And calligraphies
Of nature’s hand
Upon land and water.
What was once made
From man’s disembodiment
Is remade by God.
Like the world now
Man is
Written as the poem
In flow,
No less beautiful
Than the fine grains
Of graded sand
Made into the shapes
Of rounds
And eclipses
As if the loving moon too
Was caught in that spell
And no less
Intricately connected.
To Find the Truth
I used to think
That to find the truth
I had to mine
The self
For the original sin,
That first crime
Where I walked away
When I should have
Remained,
That first step I took
Outside of myself
Which split me
And delivered
All the subsequent pain.
And perhaps there is truth there
But also
Such a long time
Using the fragmented mind
In an attempt to fix itself,
Yet finding
Only a collage
Of disappointment
And recurring dreams
Of regret.
Now, I do not mine
But sit here relaxed
Without the need
For cause and effect,
Holding loosely
A mild indifference
To symptoms
And that great causal defect
That the mind
Made into
An unwinnable game.
Perhaps there is a partial truth
In searching out that
Primordial shame
Locked in a deep pit
Beyond the scope
Of finding.
But perhaps
The greater truth
Remains
In the full heart
That bears
All that could ever
Come to pass,
All found
In its witnessing.
For the greater truth
Lies in love
In open love
That always looked
Without flinching
In freeing love
That brings the greater truth
Of love’s
Acceptance
Of everything.
Path
Brother,
Stand unashamed
In the truth
Of your enquiring self.
You are he
Who must ask questions
To quench his thirst.
You cannot fight
Your birthright
Or the way
You are in the world.
Rest in this knowledge
That the path is right,
And your place on it
Is where you must be.
There is a deep truth
In acceptance
Of all
That you are
And all you have taken on.
Only this
Will see you transformed
And untransformed.
How you are
Is the truth
As it stands
In the moment.
There is sweetness here
Even while bitterness
Is tasted.
There is great freedom
To be powerless
Before God
To be as He is
To be as He is.
Feng Shui
In the house
is
space
and objects
on the shelf
and furniture placed
but
mostly space
as if
each object
was a pointer
to that
which held
it
safe
as if
subtle space
had traded place
with form
to be
the
more important
thing
and that
which calls
attention
to
itself
allowing
all
the stands proud
to find its home.
Equals In Seeing
You cannot really share the light.
It does not travel
from here to there
from you to me
or me to you
as if there was
some sort of ownership
and transference.
But you can rise to it -
find the frequency
of yourself
attune to the light
in another
which is only
the light of yourself
and be
the light you are.
For all
are equals in seeing
equals in light
equals in being
and there are none among us
without this divine capacity
to be
and live
and love
in truth.
http://bentruesdale.substack.com
Come find me at Substack
How Sweet
How sweet
The sweetness within,
That effulgent broadening
Like a unbelievable dawning,
A bright remembering
Of how it is
To be me.
–
But how subtle
The return to darkness
As if the night drew in
Without my noticing.
Here,
That found sweetness is a dream
And I am lost in gloomy woods
Seemingly without my bearings.
–
Oh but,
How sweet the sweetness within
When I remember the key to my life
Rests in my hand always,
When I come upon the truth
That though I appear lost,
I am never lost,
That though it seems dark,
It is never dark:
Oh, how sweet is the truth
To know I am here,
Bathed in love and bliss
Throughout my life
Despite the appearance
Of my troubles.
–
Copyright Distilled Voice 2025
The Thoughts Of Us
When the heart swells
And thoughts are glossed in wonder,
Coming to the world
Wet with love
As if they had drunk deep
Upon the source
And imbibed
A draft’s worth
Of that subtle, unformed substance,
It matters not
What these thoughts are
For all are equal
Under love’s law,
All are painted in love’s sheen,
All are born of love’s significance,
And none are higher or lower,
Weighted bigger or smaller,
Nor judged to be greater
Or deemed to be less than any another.
Like us,
They are materialised
And glossed in wonder,
Coming to the world
Wet with love
As if they had drunk deep
Upon the source
And imbibed
A draft’s worth
Of that subtle, unformed substance.
Like us
They come to life
Imbued with light,
To dance
For the fleeting moment
Of their being.
Myself
Dearest and closest
Most intimate friend,
You are made of nothing
But being.
When I acknowledge you,
When I fall back into you,
I return molten with love
As if you had dissolved
All but the essence of me,
Dissolved all
But that which you are,
Dissolved all
To which I was bound
In mind, body and thought.
And for a moment
And maybe moments after
Or even when moments stretch to hours
And perhaps really
In the truth of timeless always now,
I am free,
Free in being
And free in love,
Free to be myself.
distilledvoice 