The veil between illusion and intent is
thin tonight.
Dividing intent,
suffering is the push
and desire is the pull.
Effort is ego.
Surrender to intent.
Trying to sleep is insomnia;
going to sleep is absolute intent.
In the divided human hands of misguided Shakti,
a nuclear bomb is just intent playing with itself.
Neither intelligent design nor natural selection
but realizational intent of self.
These are the four directions:
parent, intent, process, child.
Name them gods.
Reflexively,
intent closes the I
opening two eyes
to see with a third eye
that I am.
After seeing through the world
and aligning with intent,
one’s insight enters warp speed.
Resting in the realizational intent of being.
Shiva Shakti Krishna.
I-am.
Warm November sun in Pleasant Valley—
cereal smell of fallen leaves—
half moon northern sky—
great blue heron falls to shore—
pure intent sparkles in the river.
