spirituality

Two Men Of The World

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One man

Is an individual,

He walks in the world

As a separate entity – of course,

Carrying his loneliness

Like an ever heavy weight.

There are things in the world,

Things that might draw

Attention from that dark void

In which he must not look.

And so he desires those things

For the momentary peace

He receives in their procurement.

–

Another man

Is joined to the world,

All the things he sees

Arrive to him

And in him,

Endlessly passing

And dying away:

Yet he alone

Never dies away,

For his watching

Is container for the world

And all within.

And if there is loneliness

It is brief as the seasons,

And if there is a void

He does not fear it,

Accepting all within the bounds of himself.

We Walked Through The Night

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We walked through the night,

The blazing sunshine

Of our hearts

Lighting the way.

–

Where is lack

In this?

Where are dark thoughts

And angst?

–

Exactly where they always were,

But untouched and allowed to be;

For the sunshine of open hearts

Allows, shines on everything equally.

When The Noise Stops

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When the noise stops,

When the machine of thinking thoughts

Slows to a lull

Or is brought silent

In a moment of

Concentration.

When the worker sets down his tools,

Rests a while,

Leaves his ideas alone,

Then,

In this pause,

This relaxation,

The love that was always there

Is seemingly exposed,

And Life,

Beautiful and whole

Is known in fullness.

All Things Dissolve

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In love

All things dissolve,

Coming to rest

In the primary nature

Of being.

–

All that is apparent:

The forms in the world

Are melted

In love’s crucible,

Love’s home-bound heart.

–

There is nothing insoluble,

No behaviour

Or state of mind

That can stand

The yolk of the sun.

–

Love is indomitable

Yet gentle as warmth

Passed from father to son.

It encompasses all,

Leaves nothing

–

But tenderness, acceptance

And a wealth of connectedness.

It is the foundation we share,

All of us equally beneficent

And wholly unified.

Where Sanctuary?

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Where sanctuary?

In thought’s fickle materialisation?

In the world of passing things,

Ever dematerialising,

Always dying and slinking away?

In emotion’s slavery

To the fickle thought?

–

Where else is there?

–

Where else

But the nothing,

The dimensionless no-thing,

The substance-less non-realm

Of the self.

Where else but the self’s

Void-less void,

Thing-less thing,

The self’s changeless being,

Un-conceived

And un-manifest.

–

Where sanctuary?

–

Only in nothing:

Foundation found

Only in the

Self’s foundationlessness.

From The Ashes

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From the ashes of my beliefs

Awakes the child of myself,

Born into the moment.

–

Can he remain true

To the idealess

Realm of his beginnings

–

Or must he age

In the world,

Heavier with each moment,

–

Each new belief?

Is the ageing process

And stiffening up

–

An illusion

In which we dwell

Stiffer and more unwell

–

In the hardening carapace

Of personality’s

Hard work and upkeep?

–

Or is the child unblemished,

Cocooned in the now,

Eternally fresh,

–

Ideas burned to ash

Under his gaze,

Illusions

–

Nothing but ciders

In the presence

Of his presence?

The Blazing Heart

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Perhaps you forgot

The searing light,

Buried it

In low-mood thoughts

And reason

As heavy as chains.

–

Oh, yes, you say,

Give me the nicotine of thought

And worldly misadventure.

Let me overlook my overlooking,

Let me ignore my ignorance

And dwell outside myself

In a swirl of worries,

While the light is left unacknowledged.

–

Instead,

Remember, not the cold intellectual light

And the optics of the brain,

But the warm body of love

Inside yourself.

–

Remember the needless state

Where the heart floats

On ethers,

And worries are nothings,

Neither fears, nor even yours.

–

Remember the you

Before the you

Who carried the weight of living,

The unfettered you

Buoyant and watching,

Alive in the now

From which all springs forth.

–

Remember the sun of love

Blazing in your heart,

Remember remembering,

And the knowing

That the heart has always, always burned,

Is never dulled

And will never ever grow dark.

The Looking Of You

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There is a looking,

A looking into yourself

Where the eyes

Become ever wide.

Ever and ever wider

Grows seeing

As though astonishment

Were limitless,

And what the self is

Is no less

Than all.

And yet there is greater seeing

And wider eyes,

As astonishment

Is refreshed with each

Step into yourself,

Each looking wider still,

Seeing drawn into

An infinite expansion

Into seeing itself.

Ever wider sees the I

Behind the eyes,

Ever wider

Becomes the I.

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.