forest of night is eclipsed by dawn
silence
slow crescendo of wind in wind
waltz of trees and sky
lace of inline and outline flows through you and you dissolve
along with the imaginary walls
between you and sky
thought is dawn sweeping across the imaginary canyon creating light and shadow and caressing all things into the day time dream....
enlightenment is the dream of love sweeping through the dream of separation and erasing all things... time dimension direction movement... measurement.... all this and that...
even love....
yet love caresses you into her dream
not separate from all dreams...
and we dance in this imaginary canyon of infinite wonderment
we are this dream of love dreaming itself
love is the light that erases all shadows
it is the fire that consumes all light
it is the conflagration that burns even itself
the mind is a waterfall of words
skimming across pools of liquid shadows
memories paint the day dream with echoes
mirages stream through a color land fantasy of time and space and nothing at all
one leaf slowly drifts through mountain air
softly pours into its reflection on a shimmering stream
light dances in a water ballet of light
there is no one or thing underneath the thought stream
no one to manipulate it
or flow with it
a cascade of dreams
pouring into and through itself
seemingly creating things like thought
and movement
simultaneously self arising and self erasing
I am this flowing description
thought seems to take its place in the symphony of perception
there is no one left to read it
river of life flows as it does
spontaneously
naturally
all by itself
I am a wind song sculpted by wind
cast adrift in a sea of shimmering light
water tales of breathing
water
echoes streaming across an ocean of infinite reflections
that have no source
or shadow
or light
love songs have no anchor
or rudder to guide them
they are your sails
blooming
as you swoon into the wind
you are carried by love’s echo
she sang your name long ago
it was wind
and ocean
and sky
that swallowed you
as soon as you heard her voice
...but it was always your voice
softly riding the wind
soaring through you
the breath of love
caressing you
this love song that sings you
that you are...
the wind has gone camping again
she sings with her echo in the palace of pines
I love you
I am the missing of you
sea foam clouds drift through sapphire skies
through your eyes
through these words
worlds drift through your mind stream
there is no script
no one to read it
no words to slide off
no pages to dissolve into sky
no sky
words of love are only words
what is love
what are words
what is in the word sky
what words could be true or false
when true and false are words?
twisting turning swirls of golden gently brush evening across your face
and into your eyes
whirlwind settles softly into its own breath
the universe pours through thought
thought pours through the universe
words crochet a fabric of sound and light
...and shadows sliding down the mountain
pouring night into her empty dress
and starlight in your eyes
it is your naked eyes I long to kiss
for it is only in our reflections we seem to arise
we become the shimmering in between the walls of a deep deep canyon
we can never cross
there are no sides
thought dreams us
words as thick as thought paint our imaginary lines
without which we don’t exist
there never was a mountain
or anyone to climb it
yet here we are
walking through fields of flowing
we are waves of meadow wind
caressIng our tenderness
as we gently
gently
fall in love
wind has no empty pages to fill
life sings itself
this dream of love has no dreamer
there are only songs
singing this universe
poems unravel
and not even darkness remains
many believe that enlightenment is the magical disappearance of you
but you never were
nor was there a sky sprinkled with stars
nor devastatingly beautiful colors of sunset
no colors are painted without thought
all is thought
thought is thought
there is a palpable psychological and physical release
but who or what feels this when even feeling is an idea written by thought
the dream dreams itself
simultaneously appearing and dissolving
into itself
so what exists if even illusion is illusion?
there was never a sky to swallow you
or wind to blow through you
there was never any thing called love
there were never any things at all
spring and summer unfold with their blossoms
autumn brings it’s windy golden leaves
winter sings its long dark nights
and you remain
loving the beauty of the seasons
the fullness and emptiness of love
no longer looking for meaning or truth
or any solidity at all
simply loving the love of it all
the big wow is the knowing that there are no things nor non things yet all and everything seem to appear
let us shine in each other’s love light
and bathe in each other’s colors
sunset looms
and it is beautiful
This imaginary character does not prefer to use non-dual speak with friends and family. She never says, ‘there is no time or non time’, when apparent others say things like I’ll see you tomorrow’, and certainly she would never say, ‘there is no you nor me to meet’....
When her friends say that they are trying to keep up hope she never says there is no next...
when someone dies she never says that that person did not exist....
When someone says, ‘I love you’, she would never say, ‘Neither you nor I nor love exist’...
This echo land dream ballet dancer rarely speaks of this as who actually would care that there are no things nor non things? Most dreamlings see the beauty of the natural world but not of thought and feeling.... no one wants to hear about how unutterably wondrous it all seems to another....
If you want to be in the now I won’t say a thing, even though it’s obvious that there is no now, and no one to be in it or out of it.
If you want to examine your thoughts to see if they are true, I never say anything even though it’s utterly apparent that there is no one underneath or outside of thought who can examine manipulate it, as the idea of thought as well as a thinker is created by thought.
So if we are talking and you want this crammed down your throat you must tell me!
But it won’t do any good... there is no good or bad, no prize called enlightenment waiting for you... no one who has a magic key... there is no door... nor an other side... there are no sides and no middle.
As long as you are the belief in an other better more or next you will be the looking for them. You may look and see that there is no other better more or next and yet the belief remains... as you are that belief. Who would want to erase themselves? Don’t worry, you are a flowing thought dream, like me.... as real as tomorrow and love and enlightenment. You can’t erase yourself, you simply do not exist. All there is is thought, painting light and dark and color and form and things like thought and movement...
thought paints itself...
how deep how thick is thought
how thick is the word thick
..how deep is the word deep?
We are mental fabrications...
How wondrous the dream of all and everything magically self arises and self erases simultaneously without effort or non effort yet includes things like effort and ease.... and these very words are the dream... sliding through the mind stream that was never yours or mine...
How marvelous this life just as it seems to appear!
How sublime this love!
I know that this shift in perspective is uncaused, there are no separate events no separate moments, no cause and effect, and it does not happen TO the imaginary persona. No one will never get this.... there is really nothing to get... nothing to learn by repetition or gain or lose by methods and practices, and that all this trying will only perpetuate the illusion of separation.
This is more like a ripping and shredding of the very fabric of life, of your life, of a you to have a life.... here it felt like dying, this psychological evisceration, like being skinned alive, and finding no one under the skin. I would never wish this pain upon another... for I have seen many go through this utter devastation and not fall all the way... they adopt the skin of philosophy or spirituality or religion... and poo poo the things I describe as impossible... yet I remember their tears when they had a glimpse as I was weeping too...
Non dual speak can never convey this love...
this love that seems to appear after love dies...
The imaginary center exploded and all that love I tried so hard to hold on to bled into the dream... and the water color passion play continues to dream itself.... no one lost and no one won in the war of emptiness versus fullness...
Anything said about the dream is the dream painting itself.
Oh my the sun is rising through the pines....
the moment you appeared in this dream scape the world was shattered into infinite pieces
and you have been desperately trying to put them together ever since
the trying has defined you...
you are the feeling of brokenness...
...looking for imaginary things called wholeness... happiness... love...
for anything that will complete you
it feels like you are one half of a kiss...
standing on the edge of a bottomless canyon calling
...calling....
and hearing only your own echo
your own voice
your breath
your heartbeat
the wind.....
it feels like you are utterly alone
and you are
you exist only in this dream of separation
there is no outside to the dream
as inside and outside, like all this and that,
and you
are mental fabrications
yet the horizon may untie itself
as the canyon and sky and ground
and all things collapse into meaningless sounds
all your love letters
are returned
unopened
sealed with a kiss
the kiss of your own demise
the ink disappears
the paper dissolves
your world crumbles
along with the hands and the heart that longed for wings
to fly
wind soars through its own echo
sky slides through its reflection
sound falls through it’s own vibration
this hush between words evaporates
you fall through your own kiss
as all things
disappear
even silence
this utter devastation brings an unassailable peace of no longer believing or feeling imaginary separation...
and you discover that although no things actually exist
all and everything still seem to appear
the dream of enlightenment is still the dream
you cannot exist as a non self
you are a fairy tale persona in this water color passion play painted by thought
rainbows sailing in an ocean of color
constantly dissolving and re-appearing
...always the first and last kiss
this sublime peace remains
it feels like love has super saturated the dream with its own ungraspable flavor
this cannot be described as all words are knives... stories writing themselves ...the dream dreaming itself...
and you are forever suspended in a delicious unknowing... in a constant state of utter wonderment.... such unstoppable joy and awe of simply being... in love with the love of it all
I see you on the edge of the canyon...
swaying to a music only you can hear...
we can never touch
but we can share our stories
and marvel at our beautiful humanness
and in this sharing we can can catch a glimpse of our own fathomless beauty
we simply do not exist without each other’s love light...
we are liquid mirrors dancing
echoes across the canyon...
love songs soaring
like this
morning streams into our palace of pines
and red castles
crumbling
thought paints a chorus of echoes that seem to create a me in the center of the dream
but the center is empty
as well as the castles
and colors emerging in the sun...
how beautiful that we do not know what beauty is
how wondrous that we cannot know what love is
how spectacular that we cannot know what any thing is
as there are none...
just this thought stream
chattering away...
all by itself...
flowing description is all we can know
yet the knowing is imaginary as we are concepts also...
we are a whirlwind of thought
splashing through its own echo
memory sailing in a choir of dream voices
never ours
never not ours...
putting your hand in the river... to feel the wetness you cannot see... you cannot touch light but your eyes soar through moonlight shimmering on the water... where are the walls between you and the moon? can you touch them?
where is the edge of love?
tracing the lines and loops of words poems seems to begin and end... stretch out letters into a ribbon of sound... tie up the song with a bow.... two loops and two ends... pull one end and the song disappears... doesn't matter which... pull a loop and a knot appears... what is inside the knot? can life be contained with words? what is life without words?
is life a word?
does it have a meaning outside of other words?
isn't meaning a word?
isn't love a word?
silence
slow crescendo of wind in wind
waltz of trees and sky
lace of inline and outline flows through you and you dissolve
along with the imaginary walls
between you and sky
thought is dawn sweeping across the imaginary canyon creating light and shadow and caressing all things into the day time dream....
enlightenment is the dream of love sweeping through the dream of separation and erasing all things... time dimension direction movement... measurement.... all this and that...
even love....
yet love caresses you into her dream
not separate from all dreams...
and we dance in this imaginary canyon of infinite wonderment
we are this dream of love dreaming itself
love is the light that erases all shadows
it is the fire that consumes all light
it is the conflagration that burns even itself
the mind is a waterfall of words
skimming across pools of liquid shadows
memories paint the day dream with echoes
mirages stream through a color land fantasy of time and space and nothing at all
one leaf slowly drifts through mountain air
softly pours into its reflection on a shimmering stream
light dances in a water ballet of light
there is no one or thing underneath the thought stream
no one to manipulate it
or flow with it
a cascade of dreams
pouring into and through itself
seemingly creating things like thought
and movement
simultaneously self arising and self erasing
I am this flowing description
thought seems to take its place in the symphony of perception
there is no one left to read it
river of life flows as it does
spontaneously
naturally
all by itself
I am a wind song sculpted by wind
cast adrift in a sea of shimmering light
water tales of breathing
water
echoes streaming across an ocean of infinite reflections
that have no source
or shadow
or light
love songs have no anchor
or rudder to guide them
they are your sails
blooming
as you swoon into the wind
you are carried by love’s echo
she sang your name long ago
it was wind
and ocean
and sky
that swallowed you
as soon as you heard her voice
...but it was always your voice
softly riding the wind
soaring through you
the breath of love
caressing you
this love song that sings you
that you are...
the wind has gone camping again
she sings with her echo in the palace of pines
I love you
I am the missing of you
sea foam clouds drift through sapphire skies
through your eyes
through these words
worlds drift through your mind stream
there is no script
no one to read it
no words to slide off
no pages to dissolve into sky
no sky
words of love are only words
what is love
what are words
what is in the word sky
what words could be true or false
when true and false are words?
twisting turning swirls of golden gently brush evening across your face
and into your eyes
whirlwind settles softly into its own breath
the universe pours through thought
thought pours through the universe
words crochet a fabric of sound and light
...and shadows sliding down the mountain
pouring night into her empty dress
and starlight in your eyes
it is your naked eyes I long to kiss
for it is only in our reflections we seem to arise
we become the shimmering in between the walls of a deep deep canyon
we can never cross
there are no sides
thought dreams us
words as thick as thought paint our imaginary lines
without which we don’t exist
there never was a mountain
or anyone to climb it
yet here we are
walking through fields of flowing
we are waves of meadow wind
caressIng our tenderness
as we gently
gently
fall in love
wind has no empty pages to fill
life sings itself
this dream of love has no dreamer
there are only songs
singing this universe
poems unravel
and not even darkness remains
many believe that enlightenment is the magical disappearance of you
but you never were
nor was there a sky sprinkled with stars
nor devastatingly beautiful colors of sunset
no colors are painted without thought
all is thought
thought is thought
there is a palpable psychological and physical release
but who or what feels this when even feeling is an idea written by thought
the dream dreams itself
simultaneously appearing and dissolving
into itself
so what exists if even illusion is illusion?
there was never a sky to swallow you
or wind to blow through you
there was never any thing called love
there were never any things at all
spring and summer unfold with their blossoms
autumn brings it’s windy golden leaves
winter sings its long dark nights
and you remain
loving the beauty of the seasons
the fullness and emptiness of love
no longer looking for meaning or truth
or any solidity at all
simply loving the love of it all
the big wow is the knowing that there are no things nor non things yet all and everything seem to appear
let us shine in each other’s love light
and bathe in each other’s colors
sunset looms
and it is beautiful
This imaginary character does not prefer to use non-dual speak with friends and family. She never says, ‘there is no time or non time’, when apparent others say things like I’ll see you tomorrow’, and certainly she would never say, ‘there is no you nor me to meet’....
When her friends say that they are trying to keep up hope she never says there is no next...
when someone dies she never says that that person did not exist....
When someone says, ‘I love you’, she would never say, ‘Neither you nor I nor love exist’...
This echo land dream ballet dancer rarely speaks of this as who actually would care that there are no things nor non things? Most dreamlings see the beauty of the natural world but not of thought and feeling.... no one wants to hear about how unutterably wondrous it all seems to another....
If you want to be in the now I won’t say a thing, even though it’s obvious that there is no now, and no one to be in it or out of it.
If you want to examine your thoughts to see if they are true, I never say anything even though it’s utterly apparent that there is no one underneath or outside of thought who can examine manipulate it, as the idea of thought as well as a thinker is created by thought.
So if we are talking and you want this crammed down your throat you must tell me!
But it won’t do any good... there is no good or bad, no prize called enlightenment waiting for you... no one who has a magic key... there is no door... nor an other side... there are no sides and no middle.
As long as you are the belief in an other better more or next you will be the looking for them. You may look and see that there is no other better more or next and yet the belief remains... as you are that belief. Who would want to erase themselves? Don’t worry, you are a flowing thought dream, like me.... as real as tomorrow and love and enlightenment. You can’t erase yourself, you simply do not exist. All there is is thought, painting light and dark and color and form and things like thought and movement...
thought paints itself...
how deep how thick is thought
how thick is the word thick
..how deep is the word deep?
We are mental fabrications...
How wondrous the dream of all and everything magically self arises and self erases simultaneously without effort or non effort yet includes things like effort and ease.... and these very words are the dream... sliding through the mind stream that was never yours or mine...
How marvelous this life just as it seems to appear!
How sublime this love!
I know that this shift in perspective is uncaused, there are no separate events no separate moments, no cause and effect, and it does not happen TO the imaginary persona. No one will never get this.... there is really nothing to get... nothing to learn by repetition or gain or lose by methods and practices, and that all this trying will only perpetuate the illusion of separation.
This is more like a ripping and shredding of the very fabric of life, of your life, of a you to have a life.... here it felt like dying, this psychological evisceration, like being skinned alive, and finding no one under the skin. I would never wish this pain upon another... for I have seen many go through this utter devastation and not fall all the way... they adopt the skin of philosophy or spirituality or religion... and poo poo the things I describe as impossible... yet I remember their tears when they had a glimpse as I was weeping too...
Non dual speak can never convey this love...
this love that seems to appear after love dies...
The imaginary center exploded and all that love I tried so hard to hold on to bled into the dream... and the water color passion play continues to dream itself.... no one lost and no one won in the war of emptiness versus fullness...
Anything said about the dream is the dream painting itself.
Oh my the sun is rising through the pines....
the moment you appeared in this dream scape the world was shattered into infinite pieces
and you have been desperately trying to put them together ever since
the trying has defined you...
you are the feeling of brokenness...
...looking for imaginary things called wholeness... happiness... love...
for anything that will complete you
it feels like you are one half of a kiss...
standing on the edge of a bottomless canyon calling
...calling....
and hearing only your own echo
your own voice
your breath
your heartbeat
the wind.....
it feels like you are utterly alone
and you are
you exist only in this dream of separation
there is no outside to the dream
as inside and outside, like all this and that,
and you
are mental fabrications
yet the horizon may untie itself
as the canyon and sky and ground
and all things collapse into meaningless sounds
all your love letters
are returned
unopened
sealed with a kiss
the kiss of your own demise
the ink disappears
the paper dissolves
your world crumbles
along with the hands and the heart that longed for wings
to fly
wind soars through its own echo
sky slides through its reflection
sound falls through it’s own vibration
this hush between words evaporates
you fall through your own kiss
as all things
disappear
even silence
this utter devastation brings an unassailable peace of no longer believing or feeling imaginary separation...
and you discover that although no things actually exist
all and everything still seem to appear
the dream of enlightenment is still the dream
you cannot exist as a non self
you are a fairy tale persona in this water color passion play painted by thought
rainbows sailing in an ocean of color
constantly dissolving and re-appearing
...always the first and last kiss
this sublime peace remains
it feels like love has super saturated the dream with its own ungraspable flavor
this cannot be described as all words are knives... stories writing themselves ...the dream dreaming itself...
and you are forever suspended in a delicious unknowing... in a constant state of utter wonderment.... such unstoppable joy and awe of simply being... in love with the love of it all
I see you on the edge of the canyon...
swaying to a music only you can hear...
we can never touch
but we can share our stories
and marvel at our beautiful humanness
and in this sharing we can can catch a glimpse of our own fathomless beauty
we simply do not exist without each other’s love light...
we are liquid mirrors dancing
echoes across the canyon...
love songs soaring
like this
morning streams into our palace of pines
and red castles
crumbling
thought paints a chorus of echoes that seem to create a me in the center of the dream
but the center is empty
as well as the castles
and colors emerging in the sun...
how beautiful that we do not know what beauty is
how wondrous that we cannot know what love is
how spectacular that we cannot know what any thing is
as there are none...
just this thought stream
chattering away...
all by itself...
flowing description is all we can know
yet the knowing is imaginary as we are concepts also...
we are a whirlwind of thought
splashing through its own echo
memory sailing in a choir of dream voices
never ours
never not ours...
putting your hand in the river... to feel the wetness you cannot see... you cannot touch light but your eyes soar through moonlight shimmering on the water... where are the walls between you and the moon? can you touch them?
where is the edge of love?
tracing the lines and loops of words poems seems to begin and end... stretch out letters into a ribbon of sound... tie up the song with a bow.... two loops and two ends... pull one end and the song disappears... doesn't matter which... pull a loop and a knot appears... what is inside the knot? can life be contained with words? what is life without words?
is life a word?
does it have a meaning outside of other words?
isn't meaning a word?
isn't love a word?
self is longing... it does not dissapear... it never was
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