Equality Of Being

We fret

For the things in the world:

How many,

Which ones we should get,

Their value,

How they make us look and feel

As if

Our arbitrary

Systems and scales

Were in fact

Real

And not at all made up.

What we forget

Is the equality of seeing,

How each

Has an equal

Eye upon the world,

An equal stake in being.

The vagrant on the street

Is no less

Than the champagne oligarch:

The poor man Is

As the rich man Is;

They are one

In the space of seeing

Where being rises

Fresh to the crisp now.

And so,

Out our minds go

To squabble for resources,

Ever waring

Over the importance

Of tiny little pretty things,

While the fact of our being

And our seeing

And the one who sees

Is sunk under mounds of stuff

That once attained

Lose their sheen and their gleam,

Dulling in the ignorance

Of our self

To our self.

Cool Breeze Beneath The Plane Trees

London is sweet

In June’s ownership.

Roses billow

From front gardens

In to quite, shady streets.

There is a cool breeze

Beneath the plane trees,

And reality flexes

With a deep breath

And a mind expanding.

I read in the paper

That rare orchids had materialised

On a green roof

Among towering edifices –

An astronomical improbable chance!

Someone was quoted saying it was miraculous.

It made me wonder

What other miracles

Are yet in store,

Idling just off stage,

Unseen in the formless realm,

Unexpressed possibility

Awaiting only

A nod of our head

And an invitation to be.

Heaven

We walk in heaven

Barefoot on the grass

Drinking dew-cool breaths

Or we dance on the burning pavement,

Our thoughts like shards of glass

Cutting us deeply.

Yet still we are heavenly set

Upon the earth,

Our gentle or angry mother,

Goddess or foe,

Living our lives in grace

And the freedom to choose

To make this world

A heaven or a hell.

Identity Trap

You sit there

In your skin of ideas:

What you’ve learnt,

What you’ve imbibed,

Parroting out

Your culture

Just as I am spewing mine.

And in all this soup of thoughts,

A million-hand reused,

We take our arbitrary stand

Against each other’s placards,

Clinging upon the cliff edge of identity,

Fingers bloodless

In the fear of where we might fall.

But if we were loose in our thoughts,

Seeing them as harmless

Products of an endlessly spitting machine,

And not really ours at all,

Might we see

That the apparent void

Into which we might fall

Is no void to be feared

But an endless source of spaciousness.

Wealth

It’s a feeling,

Warm as a scent-laden breeze,

The succulent breath

Of a fertile night

Rich with possibility.

It speaks, and says,

“the universe is infinite,

And you,

One with it,

Part of it,

Every molecule bathed,

Are infinite too.

Drink of me,

Be drunk in me,

Wealth is love

Bubbling as creation’s

Spring;

Only through you

What is seen

Is seen.

Join the feeling

As the bee joins

Summers fecundity,

As beings all

Rise aloft

Life’s indomitable spirit.

Wealth is yours,

Your essence,

Your birthright,

And the deeper truth

Of your reality.”

The Great River

I lie back

In the great river,

Its warm waters

Lapping at my cheek,

My chin and my forehead.

The great liquid of the world

Holds me with a tenuous grip,

Perhaps only a nudge

Upon a gently idling whirlpool.

My chest holds my heart to the sun

And I am open as a child

Yet to learn.

There is sunshine on my thoughts

And eyes, closed

For the meandering of the heart

And wisdom’s language,

Subtle as the currents

Baring me.

I am alive in trust,

Surrendered to the water’s movement,

Guided by it,

Content to be borne

Where its great waters will.

Falling Into Nothing

I lean back

And fall into nothing,

Released from the world

So various

And swallowed

So the tight knot of ideas,

Beliefs and concrete thoughts

That I called myself,

Melts away

Until I am naked

But for my essential self,

Zeroed in formlessness.

When I return,

Pick up my thoughts,

They are loose upon my back,

Less important

Than the warmth of love

Irrigating my being,

And somehow charged

By the seeing.

I am reborn in myself

As myself,

Free in my body

And free in my mind.

Where else but nowhere,

Being nothing but being,

Can you be free

Of the entanglements

Of the physical world?

Really, That Simple?

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?