Mirror Mirror.......
My mirror doesn’t work anymore....my image just walked away; it said something to the effect that
I no longer serve it well....I’m running out of ways to see myself in the process of “letting go” of everything
I speak and there are blank stares everywhere, so as to say, “What the hell are you talking about, anyway?”
Can one possibly make sense if not speaking within the ratio of the status quo? Even with those that I know
They ask “Well what are you going to do now when you’ve given everyone a free hall pass?” No rules
No restrictions, no laws, no convictions; they ask “How’ll you get anyone to follow you; what of community?”
And these are truly valid questions but, the only direction that I can lead someone/anyone is within
If there is community it will grow on its own if its course is left alone; the path to glory, in this, is effortlessness
As I pass from plain sight, in the dead of night I see the familiar essence of primal effect and disappear into it;
The depth, the power of it, where my image can’t exist; I am so drawn to this Darkness, it is never amiss
And I watch light workers plaguing existence with the flagrant schematics of a hollow joy
And religious fanatics preaching prophesized propaganda ploys in a constant flurry to a projected end
That never comes and I have come undone; removed as I have myself from all things of Old and New age
I don’t have a reason, yet, it stands to reason that in a time of shift that I should take advantage of it
It is as if the paradigm is a gift given to me to set others free, so then, I too, must be gone, it is but a mask that
I have on, for this task; to simply let the journeyers pass and see the sign on the road home, pointing at them
I am but an absent thing with an inscription....”Within”; a silence whispering not a sacred sound Om but home
And you like a lotus flower rising up through the muck of self can choose the empty shelf of blank books
Tell me what makes a flower beautiful, isn’t it you and aside from that isn’t it just functional, do tell?
How are you painting this world, are your strokes of true color or fabricated from hand me down acrylics?
What have you been told to make of it? As I am simultaneously pulled away from it; beckoned to a depth
Beyond the looking glass where I saw my image last, before it passed; now do I step through the glass
Or smash it at last? I have known this Rabbit Hole; it has been a good friend with no foreseeable end
And every time I emerge from it there is less of me and more of it surfaced to tell the tale with Nothing to hear
When there is less of you there is clarity and ease and you realize that you are not what you hold onto
You are not your memories of what you do; you are the twinkle in your eye as you watch a dragon-fly
Either; one from the waters with iridescent wings and eyes or one that slides through the veil from the other side
You are the space between the words; the silence that is seldom heard; the joy in the smile in a child’s eyes
Because what you say and do is not you; you are the before, middle, and after you are through; you elude you
You are not what is keeping you alive no more than you are your clothes; you are the part that listens and knows
Understanding the message in the wind as it blows determining the direction that it goes; do you remember?
You are the abstract space all over the place using the body as a house and space ship and the mind to get a grip
Yet, you must release it, to get it; what a trip! This is! I can’t tell you that there is Nothing in the mirror
Because your eyes tell you that there is, but, what about in Absolute Darkness in inner and outer space
Without your stuff all over the place; does your mind have a reflective surface; your soul or spirit; see it?
The air you breathe; yet it is to form that you cleave saying look at me; I am this, I am that
When you are mostly abstract and that is a fact; you aren’t even really there and it is this that you fear
Mirror mirror on the wall what will happen when you fall and shatter the illusion of this all?
The matter is that to effectively grow the plant; you should know the soil and that it is not more than it is;
It is Nothingness, then you set the Intent and the event, you, emerge through the illusions of you
Plant in an empty field, clear it out completely, nurture with silence and stillness, and with benign patience;
Water it. You may ask what is the advantage of being unseen and maintaining an empty field? What it yields
Fully self actualized human beings; a rare sight for sore eyes, for they exist beyond the lies of mankind
I have long since looked for myself in the mirror; neither one of us show up any more; Nothing to see
So I set them face to face mirror to mirror for a chance to glance Infinity as humans awaken to their Destiny
My mirror doesn’t work anymore....my image just walked away; it said something to the effect that
I no longer serve it well....I’m running out of ways to see myself in the process of “letting go” of everything
I speak and there are blank stares everywhere, so as to say, “What the hell are you talking about, anyway?”
Can one possibly make sense if not speaking within the ratio of the status quo? Even with those that I know
They ask “Well what are you going to do now when you’ve given everyone a free hall pass?” No rules
No restrictions, no laws, no convictions; they ask “How’ll you get anyone to follow you; what of community?”
And these are truly valid questions but, the only direction that I can lead someone/anyone is within
If there is community it will grow on its own if its course is left alone; the path to glory, in this, is effortlessness
As I pass from plain sight, in the dead of night I see the familiar essence of primal effect and disappear into it;
The depth, the power of it, where my image can’t exist; I am so drawn to this Darkness, it is never amiss
And I watch light workers plaguing existence with the flagrant schematics of a hollow joy
And religious fanatics preaching prophesized propaganda ploys in a constant flurry to a projected end
That never comes and I have come undone; removed as I have myself from all things of Old and New age
I don’t have a reason, yet, it stands to reason that in a time of shift that I should take advantage of it
It is as if the paradigm is a gift given to me to set others free, so then, I too, must be gone, it is but a mask that
I have on, for this task; to simply let the journeyers pass and see the sign on the road home, pointing at them
I am but an absent thing with an inscription....”Within”; a silence whispering not a sacred sound Om but home
And you like a lotus flower rising up through the muck of self can choose the empty shelf of blank books
Tell me what makes a flower beautiful, isn’t it you and aside from that isn’t it just functional, do tell?
How are you painting this world, are your strokes of true color or fabricated from hand me down acrylics?
What have you been told to make of it? As I am simultaneously pulled away from it; beckoned to a depth
Beyond the looking glass where I saw my image last, before it passed; now do I step through the glass
Or smash it at last? I have known this Rabbit Hole; it has been a good friend with no foreseeable end
And every time I emerge from it there is less of me and more of it surfaced to tell the tale with Nothing to hear
When there is less of you there is clarity and ease and you realize that you are not what you hold onto
You are not your memories of what you do; you are the twinkle in your eye as you watch a dragon-fly
Either; one from the waters with iridescent wings and eyes or one that slides through the veil from the other side
You are the space between the words; the silence that is seldom heard; the joy in the smile in a child’s eyes
Because what you say and do is not you; you are the before, middle, and after you are through; you elude you
You are not what is keeping you alive no more than you are your clothes; you are the part that listens and knows
Understanding the message in the wind as it blows determining the direction that it goes; do you remember?
You are the abstract space all over the place using the body as a house and space ship and the mind to get a grip
Yet, you must release it, to get it; what a trip! This is! I can’t tell you that there is Nothing in the mirror
Because your eyes tell you that there is, but, what about in Absolute Darkness in inner and outer space
Without your stuff all over the place; does your mind have a reflective surface; your soul or spirit; see it?
The air you breathe; yet it is to form that you cleave saying look at me; I am this, I am that
When you are mostly abstract and that is a fact; you aren’t even really there and it is this that you fear
Mirror mirror on the wall what will happen when you fall and shatter the illusion of this all?
The matter is that to effectively grow the plant; you should know the soil and that it is not more than it is;
It is Nothingness, then you set the Intent and the event, you, emerge through the illusions of you
Plant in an empty field, clear it out completely, nurture with silence and stillness, and with benign patience;
Water it. You may ask what is the advantage of being unseen and maintaining an empty field? What it yields
Fully self actualized human beings; a rare sight for sore eyes, for they exist beyond the lies of mankind
I have long since looked for myself in the mirror; neither one of us show up any more; Nothing to see
So I set them face to face mirror to mirror for a chance to glance Infinity as humans awaken to their Destiny
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