Friday, March 17, 2017

A Recipe for Enlightenment

Like absolution of an open space accepting being back into its fold.
Like the mouth of a thirteen billion year old snake
swallowing its long-awaited epilogue.
Like pure awareness clearing self-awareness
like an early arctic front refining a boreal climax forest clarity.
Ours not to do or die. Ours but to rest in self-awareness.
Listen to the red-winged blackbirds
but don't believe a note of what they sing.
As to the world, the sun thinks not but loves all.
Sing in the north, return to the southern self. This is my religion.
Be yourself and don't impersonate some other.
Make no new fears
but follow that holy mass in mass intent of burning love.
Dreaming makes all the difference in this world
like the loving ouroboric acid of this lucid dream.
Life is the mystery I am.
Silence tells my story.

No comments:

Post a Comment