Articulating Nothing

Articulating Nothing

In this quietus place I wait beyond life and death and acquiesce the deafening Silence of Nothingness
Would temptation bear me the least bit or even a drop of it; I would run to the empty promise of it
Yearning for that which I can never get and yet I wait baited like an unanswered line; phone or fish
I’d wish, were I not schooled in the foolishness of something so unrequited, cryptic; undecipherable
Yet it is Nothing that I know, albeit it is that, which it gives, and I craft this abstract barren gift
As I Articulate it, yet, wait, is it not doing this, are we so wise as to think that we are above it?
Am I so sure that every single thing is not being expressed by it; that which isn’t?
Well, I can speak for only me, blinded by a single sublime clarity, to see, Nothing, moving, me
As if someone finally listened to it; the silence of it, and became the stillness of it
And on the verge of awareness I see that none of this matters; so far from the primal thread
I can throw all of this assumed waste away and still be embedded in the thick of Nothingness
I could drop it all and be better off, yet, who has ears for what isn’t there; who would lend it here?
If I have Noting to say I then will be sent away, yet, in my silence all is said; volumes to be read
Did you think I would not find my way home all alone; without a star to be shown?
Did you think that you could make these vast anthologies of mental masturbatory material?
And I’d think it was real...think again; your books of then were movie screens, on which you were projecting
And we; your Story Book Children, listening to the dreams of hot flashed insane old men
And here we are thousands of years later fighting over the same old sand; here I’ll say it...”It’s all a Sham”
It’s all a crock and a pretty damn expensive sandbox; you are lucky for now that you can hold nature at bay
For all that is unnecessary will soon be washed away so too the games of war that you play
So I watch and wait for the timing and the chance to articulate something so simple and clear; that it will clear
The playing field of archaic predisposed contingencies and the world can finally be free from them
In the depth of understanding that this is about Nothing at all; there then is no consorted beginning or end
Finding reason is the death to all things, in the dissecting, you separate out the innate inherent joining
This is the space in between that holds everything together because there was Nothing there ever to begin with
This is the point; the miracle if you will, is that there wasn’t anything there to create any of this; that’s a myth
And from the deepest understanding; absolutely ridiculous to pass over the strings of power to those who take it
So I say that you don’t have to believe to receive; we are inherently designed to acquire all that we need
That is the power of a mustard seed “Within” exists all that it needs there is no prayer to gods or even heed!
We feed on the bounty of the Universe Within and create and manifest out of Nothing; it has always been
Stop diverting your attention to other things in hope that they will bring you something; you’re the thing!
On a Macrocosmic level it can be viewed as one thing on a microcosmic level, many, yet, it all sits in
And is made up of Nothing; if you spend your time worshiping or blaming anything you miss the point
And the point is....there isn’t any, so you are free; having a reason is a mechanism of slavery
So too with purpose and cause; this creates a myriad of inane and useless laws about things with no meaning
What I am saying in Articulating Nothing is that you have been trained to give power and allegiance over
To people, places, things, situations and circumstances that have no power or meaningful origin;
Plagued with misconstrued ideas of life death and sin and a false life you are living
Contemplate Nothing and let go of everything; embrace the primal teachings of silence, stillness and emptiness
And approach peace; at least for a moment so that you can remember the feeling of it, if you don’t choose it
And I will wait here and life after life you will have a brief memory of this quintessential moment and meeting
On the street somewhere under a dimly lit sign that reads “Nowhere” I’ll be here

The Power of Silence

The Power of Silence

The inexplicable connection when you split an atom and no matter where you put the seemingly separate parts
That are never apart; that communication isn’t God or Science...it is Silence and we are the interruption thereof
The things that I speak of and teach of; if I were to give them personification, they would lose their true flavor
An example is that I have a deep and abiding connection to all things of Myth and Legend but not as reason!
For what we deeply experience isn’t someone or thing, it is The Silence in/of Nothing...like the Tao/Zen
The awareness on some level of it moving, and us, like a violin string; being played by it; the absence in/of it
And hearing the non-existent whisper inside of it; listening to it and inevitably becoming it; this Is Power
You then are as still as the metered tempo of a virtuoso; unknown at the time of sublime consistent execution
And easily you could turn to me and say brilliant, clever, and wise yet, it is through its eyes that I see
Yet it is not a person, place, or thing, it isn’t anything; it is the space in-between and around everything
And it is to that which we are to listen. We are trained to sound and distractions abound blinded by, all, around!
Yet the message is in the Silence. On some level the water buffalo knows that there is an alligator waiting
In the watering hole, does it stay or does it go, does it listen to what it knows; what of the mouse and the snake?
Good things come to those who wait; this is why death has a gate and it sits at wait to see what choice you make
In Silence you escape because it is the one thing that Death can not take or hear because it is already there
There is nothing to listen for, no fear or anything anywhere; as long as you are still, Death has no will
I am not saying to avoid it, just that there is no power in variance to it because it is silent
Like the depth of the ocean or vacuum of space; there is power all over the place in the absence
In these extremes is where the dream of reality exists; something is spawn from the pressure of it
Humans venture in there minds and fear the primal sublime running away from Darkness all of the time
Perpetuating all sorts of chatter attempting to shatter the inevitable silence in the end; filling the spaces in
One of the greatest lies is to say that Silence is the absence of sound; when Silence is prime; there all the time
You have to make a sound; Silence is and is not found. Look to the simplicity of it, the presence of it
The depth and feel of it and how we run from it ever so often in finding that which to fill it
Yet, what we fail to see is the omnipresence of it; the vastness of it, beyond space and time; consistence sublime
No matter what you say or do my silence can/will always pierce through you, through my eyes, words; touch
Saying Nothing, yet, saying so much, do you really think that your thoughts mean anything to a Silence
So blindingly still, without though, deed, or will; the universe sits in this...still....moving; what a paradox
Silence was/is my mother and as I was born from her womb I shall return to her tomb; this is why you fear
Because she is always here...waiting for you to shut the f__k up so that she can refill her cup with your absence
Wicked truth so far removed into your annals of cultural fears; always what is waiting for you out/in there
But guess what, if you become it, you no longer have to fear it; at variance always filling space creating waste
Just stop, let go, and here is something that you may not know; Death shows to snatch/match what you hold
This is why you get feeble and old because as you hold onto life; Death is on the other side to provide the pull
Yet, if you live life to the fullest, releasing all the mess, you are its welcome guest throughout existence
You must understand the permanence of Silence, the depth of Absence, everything else is just distraction
All that you’ve been told is filler of a depth untold, for there is Nothing to say, yet, if you stay, you are Eternal
This is the trick we have been told it is in the substance, the oneness, the wholeness, yet, it’s the emptiness
For it is this that holds all of it; this is what we miss and we trip out on existence saying someone did this
I find it thrilling, that I am something like a tree with an innate Silence in and about me. That I am this
Abstract thing seemingly moving in a dream of some sorts and to realize that what is dreaming, doesn’t exist
It is just simply dreaming about existence and if we are Silent we won’t wake it up; we can still run amuck
The greatest questions it seems are: What if Nothing wakes up from the dream? Or simply just stops dreaming?

Welcome to The Philosophy of Nothing

Hanakia Ek~Way Zedek

That I may be clear in all things and Nothing
And it is from here that I express
As if it were the very thing speaking through me
And I through it, to wit, I am empty and still
And filled with it, be I bold enough to say; fulfilled
I have heard and seen and lead the steps on the quest for self
And I myself have found Nothing else
And I see and feel this so clear
And it is so dear to me
Yet there is Nothing there to see
And this is soothing
With Nothing to hold onto
I am left open and vulnerable
As I allow myself to be washed out to sea/see
I am returned shattered, broken, and free
Those were remnants of old tattered worn out pieces of me
All is beckoned back like realigned echos that have fallen off track
We have forgotten that Nothing Exists and that we have been projecting and expressing
Out of it; due to the awakening of Awareness
The Ten Thousand things and all that they bring
Are made up of and come out of Nothing......HZ