sun melts behind the mountain
canyon breathes a waltz of trees and skytrails of burning shadows flow across the garden
I drink deeply this beauty
as it drinks me
surround sound so intricate so simple
so intimate so vast
there is no answer no questions for sky
why colors
why wind
why beauty
why love
all words have disintegrated into a primal sound
inclusive of all senses
naked aliveness breathes through me as me
and I dance adorned in evening
I am a feathered silhouette
plumes of rainbows soar through infinite shades of love
falling
falling
into the words the breath the love I never left
poems are ribbons of words that cannot hold the wind
or sky
softly fading into the long
slow
colors
of night
sky sails through the edge of clouds
burning
silence
in your eyes
music of moon Lillies in the dark
shadows drift through shadows
burning
sunlight in your eyes
trails of memory weave a forest of moon lace into sky
we are the songs of ancient prayer flags
colors burning
wind
songs are afterimages of this searing brilliance
we cannot see this love light
we are it
the enormity of unknowing
drifts into the dream of knowing
all is lost and found
in this day dream of echoes
burning
this dream dreaming itself... ideas slide into ideas and an entire universe is created
Not even star dust exists without us
there is no god or source seeing through your eyes
You are not A thought
Can you find when a thought begins and ends as it is happening?
Can you find when a moment begins and ends as it is happening
Lol
No
As there is no you separate from thought looking at it or having thought
can you find anyone or any thing looking? You want me to tell you what’s looking for you feel that there MUST BE SOMETHING!
That feeling of separation is what you are... the feeling is because the belief is... the belief that no one has...
...belief is a concept
Feeling an idea...
so if you are this belief how can you find it or erase it?
I am not saying look for what’s looking as there simply is no one TO look... or not look...
mind is just a word for the thought stream making it seem like a thing
All words seem to create things..,
Thing is a word
Word is a word
Thought is a word
There is no untangling this flowing web of thought
No center no edge no substance nor emptiness to thought... no one having thought no one peering out of your eyes
No looking
No eyes...
What is energy? You can talk all day about energy but it will be simply describing... no one can know what things are as things are thoughts...
thought is thought...
even calling this a thought dream is the dream painting itself
Can you really ever know what’s going on? Can you step outside of it? Can you find an edge? Is there an outside? Is there an inside?
Can you ever really know what anything is?
You can never know what’s going on as there is no you to capture or know it
Trying to know it is what’s going on.
Trying to figure out the story is the story
It’s inescapable... the dream paints itself
Just like this
you want me to tell you who you are and what the hell is going on and all that arises is fleeting flowing description... a thought stream that paints us into the dream of separate things and events... and all this description of the dream is the dream dreaming itself...
I can try to paint the story of what it feels like... spin a web of thought and send it to you and this is the dream painting itself... there is no me nor you nor dream....
nor reality nor a you to find it...
real and unreal
Meaning and non meaning....
Time dimension direction... ALL qualities and characteristics are words
Concepts
Thought
There are no things called words without thought
No thought without thought...
I am a story like you... and in the telling of this tale we seem to emerge... and exchange words... and in this dance this ballet of thought seemingly sliding into and around thought... an echo seems to appear...
and it feels like love falling in love with itself
how wonderful that we are preferences and opinions and beliefs... nuthin' underneath! lol and that is belief... its belief all the way.... yet is feels like there is no one believing belief... no solidity... no hands grasping nor heart yearning for a thing called truth or meaning or permanence... we are simply wondrous thought dreams... flowing... weaving themselves into the shape of a heart... drunk on this love...
I am the loving of you... I am the missing of you... no you nor me nor love... when I hear your heart song it sings me dances me twirls me into this dream of love where we are pirouettes of echoes... where love dances us spins us into a flowing tapestry ....colors merging and unweaving themselves... tattered threads of color of sound of what never was nor will ever be soaring as wind soars through us... a flying carpet a magical dance of wonder... of an unfettered nakedness that no one wears... of tattered sails in the moonlight... wind dancing....
...and no one wondering what or who or when or if or why....
you want to know what’s going on...
someone’s GOTTA KNOW!
but I am a thought dream like you
how could a thought dream possibly know what thought is....
and my hands desperately combed the air trying to catch the light the magic an unknowable treasure
....this edgeless love
yet all the while the dance of my hands my heart this longing was the light the magic the love...
I am an amorphous thought dream a wondrous prism a whirlwind a kaleidoscope painting a world with color and light and beauty
no hand holds the brush that sweeps love and beauty into the universe
there is no one behind the eyes the lips the tears these rivers of ocean song painting this world this galaxy this infinite cosmos... singing eons of time and space into a shimmering hologram of crystalline transparency
spinning a magicians tale a imagined story a fairy land of wonder of love and love lost and deep deep despair and grief and unutterable joy bursting with light and shadow and the breath of morning
and the last sigh of moon
the day dream slips on her rainbow eyes and pours us
nakedly unabashedly beyond freedom or bondage into the rain
caught in the spiderwebs outside the back door
where love rushed in when I was not looking
and captured me and eviscerated me and burned me at her alter
in her pyre she consumed herself...
and it was me
all was lost
the map the treasure the seeking for other
the very ground collapsed
all yesterdays and tomorrows all hope all fear
all this and that
and in-betweens...
I am the story of this fairy tale girl falling into the dream of wind and rainbows sliding through me
and I am wind and love and rainbows dancing
colors pour through my lips my eyes my fingertips
I am the reaching out to touch
you
and there is no you nor me
and somehow this spinning thought dream feels like love
an edge-less center-less jewel of infinite hue
a surround sound of love
this symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition
not one not two not many
not none
naked wind
silken sky
tides of thought
bloom and recede
echoes on the lake have no shadow
yet they seem to sparkle so
singing ancient songs
of hidden harbors lost long ago
it was simply a mariner's tale that led you to the edge of moonlight
looking up
looking down
trying to peer through the mirror
there is only a vast unending nothingness
all light all darkness all space sucked out
turning twisting you cannot see yourself
you crash through the mirror and discover there was no one on the other side
no one looking
no middle or sides at all
you are just a sparkling dream
a baseless reflection
flowing through an echo land dream of space
and time
enlightenment is not about figuring life out, or finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
it is the recognition that the rainbow is imaginary
that this life as we know it is a thought dream
dreaming itself
and there is no way out
there is no out
no one to travel an empty road
no one left to look for somewhere
or nowhere
this is impossible to kiss with words
as all words are razors seemingly creating and splitting up the known world
nothing need be be added
or taken away
there is no truth to find
true and false are words
all enlightenment songs are empty
even this one
the death of sound and silence
parts my lips into flowers
poems bloom
my heart is a song of wings soaring
petals
falling
settling
into pools of wonder
rippling through your reflection
I see my eyes
our eyes
meet and recognize this love
boundless
without time
or place
or reason
a peace that has no echo
but is all echoes blooming
falling through their own softness
a pirouette of love that has no edges
nor sound
nor silence
that hole in your heart you have been trying to fill since you were very small
is bottomless
edgeless
someday this vast measureless emptiness may swallow you
it is you
love's heart magic pierces you
kisses you deeply
she never leaves
you can never forget
even as you try to remember
she sings your name
beckons you to the edge of her song
where your world ends
and nothing begins
the heart of your being dissolves
into infinite emptiness
all this love
you were trying to protect
for fear of losing it
was never yours
it explodes and implodes simultaneously
erasing all imaginary walls
crickets sing
in the dark where you lay bleeding
your skin shredded
your heart eviscerated
an unending silence blossoms
it is love singing
her scent is never not heard
her flavor never not tasted
her kiss is on your lips
it sings you
throughout the day and night time dream
she drifts
painting the universe with an unassailable peace
this is love
this is emptiness
this is everything
...yet this is nothing
at all
weightless are
oceans of reflections
liquid light
pours through your eyes
there are no things to see
there is no beholder
love has no echo
she is all echoes
and the hush in-between
silence deepens
falls through itself
the end of light and shadow leaves not darkness
the end of sorrow and joy has no end
when is life not
when you are not
anything or nothing
We assume there is a physical world but it can never be known
Only indirectly through concepts
Thought paints the known world of this and that
But there is really no one or thing that knows
Nor is there any thing to know
Knowing is a concept as is the knower and known.
This tumbling twirling world of thought has no center or beginning or end or edge or meaning or non meaning.... no outside or inside... it paints you and the worded world and time and space and dimension and it can NEVER escape itself.
All trying to find an origin or substance or any solidity whatsoever is impossible as all these are thought... illusion... a magician’s tale a hologram a fairy tale of love and beauty and wonder... and birth and death and deep deep sorrow and grief and unutterable joy...
and a someone who seems to be on a path towards a never arising next, when he or she will find a treasure called enlightenment... when they will realize that there is no next nor enlightenment nor any one to get it or have it.
Life can never be understood. There is no one separate from it to grasp it. Without edges, life is not a thing. There are no things. The thought stream or mind seems to create things like life and a someone who does life, and to whom life happens.... it seems to create a thing called thought and a thinker... feeling and a someone who feels... pretty magical yes?
How can thought see itself... all turning and twisting is just more thought...
This worded world, this thought dream, this conceptual universe, this virtual reality is the only world we can ever know
It is the only place where we exist
Where love and beauty live...
After the shift it feels somehow surreal and more vibrant and alive than before.
Knowing and feeling that all separation is imaginary...
is not the end of the dream of separation. It is still the dream.
The dream of enlightenment is the dream of no longer believing the dream
I cannot help or harm you
I cannot give you anything or nothing...
I am as real as you ... and tomorrow...
I am your echo and you are mine...
we exist only as a spinning day dream of light and shadow...
and it feels beautiful ...like love dancing with love
there is no source that moves me
I am not an instrument of wind
wind sighs its own breath
these lips these teeth this tongue this mouth
this heart knows the song of wind
for it is my song
and yours
the in-breath of time swirls
through its exhale
the pause in between never leaves
or begins
you can feel the backbeat of your own aliveness
it is obvious always
bursting into bloom
infinite petals radiating and dissolving into light
spilling flowing pouring through light
there is no silence of wind
it exists only in its movement
I am this song
these very words
skimming and dancing across the page
where do you appear and where do I end
where is the end of this song...
or do words continue to flow
after you read this poem?
the song sings itself
just like this
when the singing stops
we disappear
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