Forest Of Sky

Whose voice is it beckoning you to the edge of the sea?  Is it yours, or the song of the ocean?  Are there two voices or does this chorus come from inside and out?   This is the love song you have never forgotten but you could never quite remember.  Where is this deep deep longing?  Why have you been standing on the shore waiting for your return when you have never left?  There is no safe harbor anymore, there is no more pretending everything is all right.  You have heard your name called and you cannot turn back.

Everywhere you turn there is nothing but vastness, and you realize it has always been this way.  It was a beautiful dream that there were edges to the sea, and a sailing ship and clouds and sun and wind and direction and a destination and a tomorrow.  

You cannot know the words or catch the song that sings you.  You feel it’s fluidity and I can see you swaying to its rhythmless rhythm.  You are so stunningly beautiful dancing with the sea and the wind and the light as they flow through you.  You have lost the longing to catch your reflection.  There was never anyone who had an ache for freedom.  There was no one to be free or bound.  The knots untied themselves and revealed an edgeless wasteland where no one lived or loved, and you found yourself again, dancing between love and nothing at all.  

Oh my!  Here you are.  Welcome home.  I love you.  

No one lost herself
No one was found
No one lost her wings or her feathered feet that never touched the ground or sky. 

There was not a someone nor a no one who left or entered the hall of dreams, where the walls are mirrors that resemble windows.   They seem to shatter your reflection if you try to escape yet may echo your heart song as you fall through yourself.  

She was a passion play that poured itself into a glass of sky.  A story book that lost its pages when there was no one to be free or bound.  

She dances with the stars and wind and fire that burnt even her shadow as the wind scattered her reflection across the vastness until there was only the shimmering.

Yet she wanders the shadowlands and gazes at the beautiful dancers adrift on the sea of dreams.  Love waltzes with love and she weeps at the astounding wondrousness of knowing she is dreamt that others are dreamt and only through their eyes does she seem to have any solidity at all.  Dream windows open into an edgeless sea and the wind pours through her and she sings of the wet and salt and pounding waves that toss their heads back like a horses mane trampling even the slightest bit of ocean back into itself. 

He spent several hours a day trying to let his thoughts flow naturally.  

Never noticing that they flowed naturally the rest of the day...

I see you’ve bought a new instruction book on enlightenment. Can’t wait to get it home and start reading. Maybe underline a few parts. Maybe write out your favorite bits.... 

Doing that makes you feel safe doesn’t it? Like you’re going somewhere, getting something... 

All the instructions you read there will only perpetuate the painful illusion of separation.  They say do this do that don’t do this don’t do that. It’s even logical how this would empower the illusion of a doer isn’t it? But you want to feel empowered. No one would want enlightenment, really. No one would choose to have all they feel is true about them selves and their world and all ideas about truth and meaning and enlightenment shattered, including that there is someone to have a world.  As you are those ideas, that illusion, how you gonna erase it?

I don’t say that it’s all a dream so pretend it’s ok.  I say all separation is a mental fabrication.  All this and that and you and me and love are made up.  Knowing that is not the end of love.

I am not trying to convince you as enlightenment is not a belief or understanding or philosophy or set of rules to live by.  It’s an earthquake a tsunami a catastrophe in which ALL you had believed to be true about yourself and the world including all ideas like truth and meaning and all ideas about what enlightenment is are ripped to shreds.  

There is a profound shift in perspective that is felt physically and psychologically when it’s realized that life does itself and has no separate parts or moments or time.  

This shift is uncaused and does not happen to the person.  It occurs in the brain.

And as you are an imaginary piece of sky lassoed by thought how could you possibly change the brain that thinks you?

This sun
This wind
These waves
This ocean
This shadow that slides down the path
Through the village

Through the morning 

That stretches her arms around the cliffs 

Pouring honey on the sea 

Making shadows out of dreams 

That walk 

And dance 

And sing 

And weep

And feel the wind on their softness 

That never dries the tears 

That have no name 

Nor shadow 

Trees dance
Footless echoes
Sing the seasons
Last sunlight
Beckons

Dreaming wind
Leaves falling
Under your footsteps
Shadows

Breath of winter
Kiss of night
Hush

Brief this song
That sings you
Sings me
Sings light and dark

Twirls and twines
Reflections of reflections
This pulsating dream dance
Feels like love
Feels like joy
Feels like sorrow
Feels like nothing at all

Dreaming a remembering
That was never forgotten
Erupting and dissolving
Sea of dreams 

Trying to run away from your ultimate aloneness...
trying to fill in the terrifying vast emptiness and fear of unknowing...
trying to find a reason for death and love ...
Trying to imagine a petaled path where there is no death...
Trying to figure out why
LIFE ISN’T FAIR!!!!
Trying to get back into the womb...
Trying to stop the trying...
End sorrow
End despair...
Find the treasure at the end of the rainbow...
God will fill in the blanks

Until the thunder...

Endless petals ever blooming ever wilting ever shimmering in the summer sun the midnight moon.  The dearth of light itself casts a shadow in your heart when you are waiting to capture the beauty that you are.

A sigh a glance a cool wind from the north sings itself into your mind stream and writes its name on your lips.  

My mouth my eyes my very fingertips are saturated with a love that writes its name in your reflection that I fell through whilst I was looking for love. 

Endless echoes of love’s reflection reverberate in this heart song that no one wrote yet that writes me. 

A song an ancient melody where the words soar as infinite vastness itself weeps at the utter unknowable sublime spaciousness and the majesty of simply this... this life this life this unbound life that has no owner no home no place to hang your hat no bench by the sea where we sit as wonder itself and gaze at the beauty of each other’s eyes. 

I am flowing fleeting memory.      Constantly forming and rearranging the liquid painting of myself.  A crow feather softly sighs as it liltingly falls through the morning sun.  The distant fishing boats heading out to sea. Song birds fill the cliffside and a squirrel chatters endlessly perched on the trunk of a palm tree.  The symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition is far too vast to be captured and named, yet the wondrousness of the unknown and the worded world dancing through me as me... I am the wind and the wind dancing through me.  Utterly transparent my echo flies across the cliffs and paints my silhouette with sky on a wind ballet that is unutterably beautiful. 

Such an enchanting river of song... the music of love’s heart magic pulls you in.  Beckons you to drown in your own sublime melancholia.  It’s the ocean calling your name.  

Love waltzed through my doorway and pulled the curtains as she slammed me to the dance floor saying 

Let’s dance 

It was the death of all ideas of love. 

I never felt like I had a choice or was doing the deconstruction.  Never tried to fight it no matter how much it hurt...  and it hurt like hell.  Far worse than I could have imagined I could hurt without actually dying.  

Even as kids we would sing sad songs about love lost and the loss of youth and impending death and cry.   The beauty of this fleetingness was not missed.  Playing the records again and again lost in this sublime melancholia. 

Forest of sky

Echoes 

Traces its fingertips 

On your lips 

Nothing was hidden 

Under your reflection 

Love another cloud castle 

Dissolved in this mirrored glance 

That weeps at its own brilliant transparency 

Not even a kernel 

Of someone left to know 

Or wonder 

Why 

All words are defined by other words.  These shared learned words form the thought stream in which you and all thingness arises.   No one has any actual existence, there is no one separate from what’s going on to capture or know it.  Most mistake this flowing description this roof brain chatter for understanding.  But there are no things to put together into some kind of place of rest or understanding and no one to understand. 

It’s a never ending loop, looking for understanding, a place to rest, looking for meaning, looking for any idea like truth or peace or love or enlightenment.  All that looking seems to substantiate the painful illusion of a seeker, and a solid stable goal to reach.  

Most seekers and teachers believe that there is something solid and fixed and eternal that is not affected by thought or feeling.

Under the wrapping paper there is not even a present

A self which is simply a flowing thought dream cannot manipulate or allow thought or feeling to flow.  Yet the brain which thinks can shift so it no longer identifies with the undermutter in which self and all thingness seem to emerge.  There is a palpable physical and psychological release when it’s realized there are no actual things or non things and no one thinking, feeling, or doing life.  

Many teachers say that they let thought and feeling flow naturally when thought and feeling always flow naturally.  Trying to allow or manipulate thought or feeling perpetuate the painful illusion of separation.  I would never say anything to empower this illusion.  Yet this no thing ness cannot be grasped with words or the intellect as all words are the apparent razors that divide what has no edges nor center and what is not even a what.  

The catch phrase I’m hearing these days is, ‘I don’t believe in enlightenment.’  (Meanwhile the speaker of these words really wants it.)  But quite simply they are right, enlightenment is beyond belief.  It’s not an understanding or a thing that can be taught or learned or given away. 

Empty Pocket Of Moon

Walking through sky reflection
Sky slides through no sky
No contradiction
Not an empty song
Nor full

A child left his empty bucket on the beach
Was it very long ago
time fell into itself
And sky swallowed you



On a distant shore
beyond the horizon
Waiting for your self to return
Silence sings
Waves have erased your footsteps
And the stars

No dots to connect into familiar patterns
The path has collapsed
No safe harbor can be found
The very ground is moving
Like water
Time forgot to say goodbye

There is no retreat this time
This is not a glimpse
The war is over
This ocean of your tears
Your face
Is so stunningly beautiful
I can tell you I love you
But you will find nothing there
Just the wind
And sky
And an overwhelming vastness

No
The tears don’t stop
They have no name now
They never did



I am not here
To paint a smile on the moon
Or fill your empty heart
I am a mirror
To show you love’s devastatingly beautiful reflection and the utter emptiness you long for and fear



Drawer of dreams
unopened curtains
Sunlight slides down your face
Cast shadows
Pool in your footfalls
Where echoes bloom

Stillness ripples across
the sounds of yesterday

Pirouetting into itself
Today sings
Melody and words
Burnt as they appear
Ashes of moonlight



You feel alone
Because you are.

You feel disconnected
But are not separate from the feeling.

You long for highs
You are the longing
Life’s longing
Only humans long for ideas like tomorrow or enlightenment...

the feeling of aliveness is apparent through all the symphony of perception and its simultaneous recognition.
Self walks on a tight rope a timeline between birth and death, if there is no one walking there could be no one to fall.



Fleeting reflection of sky in sky
nothing is held
Not even the clouds
Or beauty

Words are transparent slideshows
They cannot lasso a piece of sky
They cannot see themselves
Or their echo

Afterimages dance in a mirror
It melts into its own reflection
Knots untie themselves
Ropes dissolve
yet the sky does not fall
Into an empty pocket
Of moon


You are the looking for certitude.  For something called reality or peace or truth.  But deep down you know that life is fluid and edgeless and there is no place to land, Nothing to hang on to in this hurricane.  You may see your world of imagined truth and reality be blown away like a house in a storm.   The roof the walls the linoleum gets ripped off the floors, even the concrete foundation crumbles, and the very ground it was built upon collapses.  Like cloud castles in the wind, like sandcastles in the incoming tide. The very feet that seemed to wander the shores searching a safe harbor will be swallowed by their own footprints.

All ideas of this and that will be known to be made up, self a flowing mental description, a flowing thought dream painting the only world you can ever know, and you.  A beautiful beautiful imaginary center of the dream around which the rest of the dream swirls.

This catastrophe is called enlightenment, and it is not a walk in the park.  It’s not an understanding as how could an edgeless centerless non thing be grasped with the razor of thought?

It’s a toppling of the need to grasp what cannot be grasped.  And a delicious awe and joy of life simply appearing as it does.


What is joy
What is sorrow
What is the hush in the garden
Moonlight reveals

Wrapped under winter’s fallen footsteps
Lies an ache that has no name
No word is minuscule enough
Or big enough
To kiss her beauty

Love need not seek her shadow
Its in the ember of song that has burned in your heart ever since you can remember
Without your eyes she cannot weep
Without your tongue she cannot sing
Without you
She is not


Awakening is more intimate than your eyes your skin your lips your tongue your heart you’re gut... it’s all belief being eviscerated including the illusion that there is someone who has belief...

Like yesterdays sunset when you danced with your shadow on the cliffs until you lay down exhausted and awoke to a dream of dreaming you were awake.

In a movie and watching it at the same time... knowing it is beautiful illusion yet as real as it will ever get.  Realer than real somehow... feeling deeply yet no one is feeling, tears happening to no one.


I don’t say that’s it’s all a dream so pretend it’s ok.  I say all separation is a mental fabrication.  All this and that and you and me and love are made up.  Knowing that is not the end of love.

I am not trying to convince you as enlightenment is not a belief or understanding or philosophy or set of rules to live by.  It’s an earthquake a tsunami a catastrophe in which ALL you had believed to be true about yourself and the world including all ideas like truth and meaning and all ideas about what enlightenment is are ripped to shreds.

There is a profound shift in perspective that is felt physically and psychologically when it’s realized that life does itself and has no separate parts or moments or time.

This shift is uncaused and does not happen to the person.  It occurs in the brain.

As you are an imaginary piece of sky lassoed by thought how could you possibly change the brain that thinks you?

The thought stream is felt to be transparent.  A paintbrush dipped in iridescent translucence washes a surreal light show of people and places and time 

And love...

Flowing backward and forward into and through itself like the waves on a shore less sea washing away the very tides that sailed the moon into her shadow.  

No borders are felt yet I exist only as imaginary lines.  Between here and there, this and that, before and after, between the between and through sides and sideless-ness, sublime seamless ease pervades the dream.

Let us touch with our eyes so that I may weep at the beauty of touching.

Let me feel the wonder of tears 

On my face 

On your face

On the faces of many 

On the faces of a few.  

The heart songs of the ancients flow through these lips your lips our breath our hearts, it is only words that paint us and this primordial dance of love of sorrow of nothing at all.  

Do not the stars fall through you on to the path no one walked, or are those your tears that paint this symphony of love?  These tears that have no name nor number saturate the earth. Your feet fall through as the ground collapses and you soar as the wind, the music of love of sorrow of joy that lost their shadow and their name as it flows through you as you.

You are the wind dancing and the soft caress of sunlight rippling through the trees.  Without any place to land on this shoreless ocean the vastness explodes and implodes in your heart.  All your secret pockets have been turned inside out and there is no place to hide and no one left to run for cover in this all encompassing brilliance that has seared even the sun with its love. 

Impossibly beautiful, this sadness that leaked into joy, these words that seem to sever the sky into clouds and mountains and deep deep canyons where the sun rarely sings, where only a breath of midnight ricochets it’s echo into the symphony. 

This music of echoes of light and shadow, of infinite notes that were never separate, this song that has no melody or time plays itself across my mind screen.  A wind ballet delicately shimmering across edgeless seas, I am enchanted by the song that I am, that you are, that we are.  The tears never cease, although you may not see them.  Heartbreakingly beautiful this life, where we seem to touch, knowing we never really can.  

Simply a wondrous thought dream painting itself and erasing itself like the light in last night’s dream appearing in your skull.  We hover in between what never happened and what never will.  Thoughts of yesterday’s love and sorrow, of winter songs and springtime flowers wilting on the dashboard in the hot summer sun.  How wondrous thoughts of a never arising next stream through the backbeat combing the sands into an hourglass of time.  Yet you cannot find your shadow in the desert dream without the reflected light from another desert dancer.  

Here I am.  I love you.  You are beautiful.

and his words flowed like liquid sunshine pouring through an empty prism and melting the coldest of hearts.....

.....and when the sigh of unknowing untrampled the grasses where love lay bleeding.....

the sun rose on her nakedness and a wind of perfection kissed her cheek where tears would never dry 

Awakening is more intimate than your eyes your skin your lips your tongue your heart you’re gut... it’s all belief being eviscerated including the illusion that there is someone who has belief...

Like yesterdays sunset when you danced with your shadow on the cliffs until you lay down exhausted and awoke to a dream of dreaming you were awake. 

In a movie and watching it at the same time... knowing it is beautiful illusion yet as real as it will ever get.  Realer than real somehow... feeling deeply yet no one is feeling, tears happening to no one.

  

The Sound of the Universe Weeping at its Own Beauty

You know life is precious and you want to hold on to it 

If it could be grasped 

You would have to be separate from it 

Life in your pocket 

A pinned butterfly

Has not the preciousness you seek.  

You are the fleeting beauty of life 

Kissing itself 

Through your lips 

Your song 

Singing you 

Who would want to grow a garden of cement flowers 

even plastic flowers fade like old love songs... the beauty is in the impermanency you fear and long for 

Footsteps in the dark 

Echoes on the sand 

No waves can be lost or found 

In this sea of dreams 

The call of your loneliness 

Comes back to you 

The sound of the universe weeping 

At its own beauty  

All the love you longed to feel yet you were terrified to lose explodes and implodes in your chest.  Your heart breaks so deeply the very core of your being is severed.  All that you thought you were becomes a backward glance behind a mirror that has shattered into infinite sparkles dancing on an edgeless sea.  It is the kiss of death, this love that eviscerates you, your lips your skin your teeth your mouth your heart your very breath is no longer yours. Belonging to no one this love is everywhere and no where.  Streaming through you as you this seamless Kiss of Joy of sorrow of nothing at all.  

Silver light
sliding water
No moon
No sun
No sky

Tears
Love’s jewelry
Your only adornment

Prisms loosed their color on the glass
That broke
When you drank your reflection

In the dead of night
No hope
No fear
No time

Walking
Through memories of moon
A shadow resplendent in its own light

Summer sun dances
In pools of whispers
You know the words
You cannot echo
They fill your chest
As it explodes
Into the treasure
Of simply this 

Sea slammed you into sky 

Sky into sea

In this utter vacancy between the horizon
Where there is no sorrow nor joy nor love 

nor anyone to feel 

nor anywhere

nor anywhen 

Midnight heard it’s echo in this ancient song 

Of vast desert wastelands
Of waves of endless sand and ocean 

and sky

the never remembered never forgotten all embracing kiss. 

You have never left
Nor entered 

There is no door or window or wall 

This infinite spaciousness has 

No ceiling 

No floor 

No path 

No way 

Running and laughing through the shallow waves 

Sun smiles 

A child picks up a shell 

 

Your very own heartbeat 

the song of the universe

Fluidity of life has no edges 

No beginning nor end 

No observer can be found 

Outside and inside emerge in thought. 

Is the breeze separate from your skin?  

Is this sweetness separate from your tongue? 

Is red separate from the rose? 

Words write the story of time and place and you and me.  There is no outside to this conceptual reality thought paints, but you know that what’s actually going on cannot be caught by thought.  What if red were a thing you could hold?  What if the wind could be caught?  Where would you put it?  

All stories are maps within the dream.  There is no edge to fall off.  All signs are pointers point back to the dream. There really is nothing solid and stable and fixed.  No reference points whatsoever.  Even the you that feels so solid, can you really find anything unchanging?  Or is there simply a flow of memory thought sensation that seem to create a fleeting image, a flowing description of a person looking for an answer an understanding a place to rest and knowing deeply, perhaps fearing and hoping, that there is none, and no one to have it. 

Fully alive fully human 

Not looking for freedom knowing there is no one to be free 

There is a boundless intimacy to life 

First crows 

first light 

Soft breath of my husband 

Waves and waves and waves 

A distant fishing boat heading out to sea.

This beauty this beauty this beauty

Life happening all by itself 

Joy Sorrow Love

loss of love

life and death 

We share this beautiful humanness

This ache of our aliveness.

Most spend their entire lives looking for more or better, in constant hope and fear of a never arising next.  Missing the obvious always on beauty and magic and awe of being aware of being aware.   

No other better more or next.

Simply this 

Life streaming through you as you.

Through the marvelous imaginary conceptual reality of this and that occurring in the human brain, there arises the most precious gem in the universe.  Awareness aware of being aware. 

When imaginary separation is believed it is exceedingly painful 

When not 

Unspeakably marvelous

Words cannot capture this awe

Like love like bliss like joy

Your world collapsed 

The curtain pulled back 

There was nothing left

No one to wear the clothes of meaninglessness 

Time fell through time 

Slipped through timelessness 

Sound reverberated in its own absence 

Light reflected its own luminescence 

Night spiraled into the echo of day 

Beauty melted the edges between I am and we are.

This tornado of song that splits not even nothing into everything remains as you lightly step out into the edgelessness every footfall blooms into an unknowable universe singing with an unspeakable iridescence.  You are this raw nakedness 

feeling deeply 

No one wears it 

There are no secret pockets to hide in

No one left to hide 

Life ignites itself as it flows through you 

unafraid of love 

Of life 

Of death 

It’s all the dream 

Even not believing in the dream 

Is the dream 

Step-less wonder 

Cloud castles sailing through blue forming dissolving kissing the sun.  constant disbelief, a most delicious unknowing, dancing in footless shoes.

And loving love like crazy

Across the horizon
Birds awaken
What is the song of darkness
When no one is listening?

Midnight reveals
star-songs
What is the sound of wonder
When it has no name?

footfalls in the dark
Echo in your empty heart
Love washed away in the tides
Of longing

It cannot be found
As it is everywhere
And no where
It kisses you full on the mouth
And breathes you 

I spent many nights laying on a bed of nails 

Gripped by unseen unknown terror

This is the part most teachers will never talk about

But I do

Enlightenment is not a walk in the park 

Or an understanding reached by armchair discussions. 

Or slipping into s state of bliss through constant mediation.

All your ideas about who you are and what the world is like or supposed to 

be are being ripped apart 

As that is what you are 

Ideas 

It hurts like hell when you are beginning to realize that you are nothing more than a flowing fluid thought dream. 

It feels like dying 

But it’s realized you never had any actual existence at all.

It’s the end of the belief and feeling of thingness.

There are no reference points whatsoever 

And no one to grab one.

bittersweet joy
beautiful sorrow 

Sublime aloneness 

Weeps 

An edgeless emptiness that cannot be filled 

No bottom to this treasure chest 

Of your heart 

No words can slide into unknowingness 

To erase your shadow 

wind sighs across the canyon 

Laughing and weeping at the beauty of echoes 

Empty Pages in the Wind

Shadow seeks light 

Breath seeks song 

Blood seeks fire 

Love seeks release 

Empty cage 

Empty heart 

Empty pages 

In the wind 

She no longer looked for her heart 

On the broken streets 

In the empty town 

In the vast desert 

In the fathomless sea

On the lonely sands of night 

beaches of stars 

Wave on the shore less ocean  

empty sky weeps 

Weaves her mirrored raiment of moon glow 

Reflecting echoes that have no source 

Her eyes illuminate the sun 

Silent songs have no words yet we remember them just the same 

We are love’s memories 

They are our clothing 

Wrapped in nothing, 

nothing under the wrapper

Just this raw nakedness that no one wears

There was never a never or forever to put in your pocket 

Or your empty heart

Falling into and through your reflection bursts the other side of the mirror 

there are no sides to a reflection 

Only a sideways glance reveals that the river has no sides 

it’s silent song is heard after the dam of affliction breaks open and you drown in your own blood 

Your own tears

Your own love

Empty candy wrappers 

Wind flowers on the beach 

Dance with their shadows

Kiss their reflection in the wet sands 

Dance is its movement 

As wind 

As mind 

As life 

A fluid dreamscape 

Of light and shadow 

Reaching out to taste itself 

Through your lips your tongue your beautiful eyes 

She wandered into the empty temple and found her hand print on the wall. 

Reaching out to touch she fell through the wall of no tomorrow. 

Sliding daydreams 

Windows on the sea 

No safe harbor 

No one to land 

No one to seek 

No where to search 

For that which does not exist 

Mirrors broken 

Shards of sky 

Pierced their own reflection 

Love bled into itself

Unclothed of nothing at all 

She discovered she was this nakedness 

That no one wore 

No hangers 

No closet 

No room 

She had no home 

Not even emptiness 

That no one lost or found 

Only a shadow 

Drifting across the threshold 

Between love 

And nothing at all 

Sitting by the side of the road waiting for yourself to return... you realize that you and all you have ever loved are beautiful thought dreams sailing through each other, and it is sublimely bittersweet.  

Love sailed away in her warm summer jacket.  

Sea chewed her up and spit her out 

as she swallowed the stars. 

Love is life is love intertwined 

never not one or two 

Or none

This all encompassing embrace 

without edge or center 

caresses fills empties 

Ravishes

A vacant heart 

That was filled with wishes 

And become unbound 

Un-owned

Un-known 

Felt fully 

This beautiful ache 

These wondrous tears 

These eyes that see their beautiful reflection 

In this scintillating dance 

waves crashing, sliding on the beach 

receding into their own wetness 

A love without tomorrow
Has no words
Unheard
Unsung
The love in love 

The taste of taste 

On your lips your mouth your tongue 

Light in light 

Flows through you as you 

Your eyes illuminate beauty 

Love 

And the sun itself 

This kiss of one of two of many of none sears you beyond recognition.  Deeper than a lovers kiss or a broken heart, or the knowing that no one remembers you as a child, that all you have ever loved or will are ephemeral thought dreams like you.

There is no self.

There is no other. 

This utter edgeless vastness without space or time or dimension or emptiness sucks you inside out and outside in simultaneously, and all that’s left is the awe and joy of simply being. 

Life’s ecstasy sings you as it’s utter perfection.  Streaming through you as you is this very thought dream that paints reds and golds and brilliant yellows and sunsets.  Flowing cloud castles forming and dissolving that no one ever lived in, and vast deserts and seas that cannot hold a footprint or a tear.  

The illusion of a world and a someone who is lonely, who longs for a never arising tomorrow, who wishes upon a falling star to hear the song of the universe, is the universe singing you. 

You remember this song but you cannot find it.  It is ancient it is ever arising it is never heard never not heard, it is a silence that shakes the illusion apart and brings it together into a sonic boom of never ending always ending never unsung awe. 

Ocean falls into ocean 

Wet in wet 

Inside the inside 

Light in light 

Outside the outside 

No sides 

Space in space 

He fell into his own reflection. 

Empty of emptiness. 

Slipped inside his own echo. 

Deafening sound of no sound. 

Falling through the falling 

Dissolved of a need to land 

No feet to fill these footprints 

No echo will fill what has no edge.

No wet

No light 

No space 

Not even nothing 

But this song 

From everywhere 

From nowhere 

Fading as it emerges 

A distant memory 

A butterfly kiss 

Never was a never 

Or a forever 

Or a now 

In this current without edges there are no reflections 

Simply liquidity.  

All encompassing edgeless unowned love.  It’s all flowing reflections through the mindstream that you are.

Imaginary edges mirror glimpses of beingness reflecting in your beautiful beautiful eyes, singing these very words that seem to capture light.

Impossible to capture with the razor of thought 

Yet I love the song 

I am it

There is no way to sing of or convey this utterly obvious seamlessness.  Yet I sing and sing and my words are tossed into the sea of knowing and may toss the seeker into a sea of unknowing. 

I have never heard of enlightenment being a walk in the park 

Yet the free glimpses are. 

After the ocean has called your name 

You can never forget it 

And the longing to drown may outweigh the fear 

The cage was always empty 

She was the trying to escape 

Looking for freedom 

Was her cage

The seeker is the seeking to end the pain of imaginary separation.  All looking for escape paints the imaginary lines darker and darker 

Seemingly obscuring the light

No matter how many books you read 

No matter how many hugs you receive 

No matter how many places you visit 

Or look 

For something to fill that great gaping hole in your chest 

That ravishing emptiness you feel 

can never be filled 

Some place holders may work for awhile to assuage that longing or permanency.  True self, god, source, awareness, consciousness, mystery,  ...even emptiness is a place holder but you cannot hang your heart there.  The world is, and you are a slippery slidey thought dream.  

You may reach a point where you realize that yer Fucked, that nothing has ever worked, and the entire house of cards may begin to crumble. 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?list=PL3iKu3B4tOYYBXaYm1BJwudP3WJ0jRCMP&v=2OiDBtNPszg