Stable Ground

For all the gifts

The world would offer,

None is more than passing,

None less transient

Than the clouds

Ever changing face and form.

Who and what

Finds immunity

From THIS law?

What in all that slips

And falls apart

And wears out

And degrades

Offers immutability’s

Stable ground?

None but formlessness

None but nothing’s something

None but silence’s empty space.

Only here in nowhere

Where there is none but one

Is peace unnamed,

Unmade and unhappening.

We Enter Ourselves

We take a stroll

Because of our shared love of truth.

We ask: what is the nature of I?,

Allowing the question

To sit in the tip of our tongues,

The taste of ourself

Percolating silence.

The mind might garble

But the taste is true.

What is the taste? Love?

Warmth and understanding?

Limitless, boundless I?

We stroll deeper still

Speaking our hearts,

Hearing our hearts’ perspective.

Fear seems a long way away,

Not even a problem,

For we ask: what is the nature of I?

And the answer is a recognition,

Our deliverance to it,

In it,

That we are

The truth we seek,

We are

Beautiful being,

Satisfied in the being of it.

Love’s Resonance

Truth is sweet upon my tongue

When I speak

From the loving perspective.

It’s as if the world warms

And expands,

Envelopes all in a delightful oneness,

A magic sprung for the heart’s

Open portal to the Word beyond.

And what of ownership?

There is none but God’s silence

Percolating and infusing

First the body,

Then the outer world,

Reaching to all infinity,

His space rightly claimed.

Truth is like honey on the tongue,

Sweeter for sharing,

Sweeter still in the expanding moment,

Wholly overwhelming

Like an encompassing wave,

And bringing all to love’s resonance.

Meditation

First, I settle

And then

As if drifting

I am dipped in the liquid of being

And go whole

Into that golden sea,

The light sea

Where there are no beginnings.

And in those unfathomed waters

All that was

Is indistinguishable,

All that could be

Is likewise nullified,

All things of form

Answer the call,

Returning home to the source

To be free.

Yet when I arise,

When I put on my clothes,

My mind and my body,

I feel the warm nakedness of truth,

A drop of that sea

Lubricating all things

With wonder,

A single infinite drop

Baptising all with its light.

Single Eternal Note

I won’t go into the day save to say it was grim as an overcast sky, hungover and car sick. But now, on a beach polished golden by late afternoon light, two cold beers – my companions, refreshment beading bottle-green glass and glugged so thirstily, the whole of reality is changed, altered.

The wind moves constant through the pines, and unseen birds twitter: Vibrating needles hum a single eternal note.

The tide is in, lapping gently in the push of cool waters. Oystercatchers shrill low over the glistening brine, every wavelet capturing the blinding sun.

Moored sailboats jostle anonymous, swayed by tide, current and breeze, their lanyards chink, chink, chinking, tolling a finger-tapping rhythm, a morse code of freshness.

The wind moves constant through the pines, and unseen birds twitter: Vibrating needles hum a single eternal note.

The sun is on my back like a hug from behind. I look up, and the beach is near deserted. My companions are spent and silent, drunk.

The sunbathers have packed up, leaving but a memory’s shape pressed in the sand. Only a lone young woman remains, sitting on the wall, reading. There is a deep silence inside her, a peace made of the ever-flowing wind.

The wind moves constant through the pines, and unseen birds twitter: Vibrating needles hum a single eternal note.

Behind the woman is the row of trees from which the birds twitter. Their trunk-bodies are sculpted by the air; their faces swept clean; their hair creaking; their needles vibrating with the sound of reality.

I can taste the world, the whole world, brought by the wind and the twittering birds, constant in the fronds of the trees, creaking gently.

The wind moves constant through the pines, and unseen birds twitter: Vibrating needles hum a single eternal note.

I can feel the world, the whole world, called by the wind and the bird’s constant twittering, and the oystercatchers cutting the sunlight from the waves, and the chink, chink chinking of lanyards drumming on aluminium masts.

I know the world, the whole world, found in my broadening heart’s cool waters and the sun’s hug from behind. I know the loving world contained in the constance of silence as the wind moves through the pines and unseen birds twitter; Vibrating needles humming a single eternal note.

Gift

I dropped into myself

Settling into stillness,

Falling deeper

And ever deeper

Until I touched the reverent moment

And disappeared.

And now I rise

Back into the body,

Up, up, up and up

Into the world,

Wet and frictionless as a new born

As if my slick skin

Were a lung

And could drink

The divine osmosis,

Every molecule freely interchanged,

Undone in form,

Beautiful and borderless.

Oh, how warm

Have I come clothed in nakedness,

How touched

I am;

Come home

From home

To home,

As if when I drank from myself

The whole universe

Became a vast and comfortable blanket

That I did not drag

Upon my back

But which bore me

As though a wave of lightest medium

Harnessed me to its being

And brought me surging,

And painted gleaming new.

And so,

What thing I am,

What movement in which I move

Is bowed

To lowest bended knee,

And from the eyes

Tears stream

In bountiful gladness,

Lubricating the offering

I offer whole and entirely:

My heart held out

In the palm of my hand

As a gift to you,

My love,

A gift for you.

Lullaby

It begins

With a strong focussing mind,

A me behind the eyes

Looking out,

The contracted energy

Of a self

In the grip

Of wanting to be.

And maybe there is a way in that,

A way through the puzzle

That cannot be solved,

Frustration

Burning so bad,

The mind freed

Through absolute futility.

A way, perhaps!?!

But when I turn my gaze

And relax,

When I unfocus my eye

And breathe out,

When I do nothing

But be

It’s as if I’m reclining

In the feather bed of myself

And bathing

In a bath-time of being,

Absorbing sweet ubiquitous sunshine,

Something and nothing at all.

And where is mind?

For his blather has faltered,

His voice has lulled to an easy quiet.

He now slumbers,

Rested in the greater bed

Of borderless life

Upon which the warmth of love

Flows simultaneous

To everything,

And where there is no one

But the one

Being its ever present lullaby.

Looking Deep

Looking deep

Inside myself,

I find things

In all degree of

Colourful multitude.

But who sees those things,

And from which vantage

Are they lit

And wholly perceived?

And so I turn around

And face the formless face of myself,

The placeless place

Lacking evidence

Of all but being’s

Un-identity.

Am I really nothing

But the looking,

But the seeing,

But the loving

Which loves itself

And loves

As a star illuminates?

For with each glance

The scent of something comes

Which fills my heart,

And when I see the love pass

I look again into nothing

And yet again

I am fulfilled.

And then, not dwelling,

I lift my eyes from the love

Which became alive,

Glance once more

To that which I cannot perceive

And look…….

You Call My Name

You call my name

With the music of your voice

And now I am falling……

Falling into your voice,

And……

I am….

Lost in the falling,

Adrift in beauty’s placeless place;

In love with love…

Oh, I am….

Speechless ………..and wordless

Stripped of my meaning

And brought to my knees

Before God….

Oh, I am

Silenced

Silence

On A Balcony

On a balcony

Breakfast set on a small table:

Strong, bitter coffee in paper cups,

A croissant, a white roll, milk

And jam in plastic packets.

The near world:

Weathered stone buildings

With Terracotta rooves

And balconies from which

An array of washing dries,

Narrow alleys webbed together

By cables and telephone wires,

And covered terraces

Festooned in succulents

And semi tropical flowers.

Ratcheting Cicadas

Unseen in the trees

Haul the just so-ness,

Drawing it with percussive song

Until it miraculously oozes

From the pores of all things,

No one

More or less steeped

In equality’s being,

Reality broad and encompassing,

Presence vibrating as a unified field,

Every tangible element

Totally equanimous.