Love’s all encompassing radiance

 

before love ran out she poured me through her hourglass and scattered me among infinite grains of sand
I found myself naked... running along empty beaches
I am the weight and lightness of utter transparency

and how can words contain the enormity of our lives
heart songs sung and
unsung
endless echos of soundless auras
this inside out surround sound of trailing roses
blazing
ashes
falling
and it is all words
this story of who we are and what our world is
and knowing its all story
we are a fairy tale dream song
is the song
of our lives

and utterly spontaneously your hand may seem to move to brush away the tears from another's face and that is the flow, just as rain is inevitable
...this is the dream of life.... moving... or not...  
not out of an idea that tears are wrong... or right...
knowing that movement and non movement are simply more beautiful dream stuff spinning the dream....
and nothing is wrong
or right
there are no things



I seem to arise in the longing to paint this wonder
in long slow swirls upon your breast
for the colors to bleed across your body
under your skin
to arouse the songs
known only to you
that you may sing
with me
and we may melt together
into the song of our aliveness

this is the beauty
unheard
unsung
lying beneath our colors
bursting

longing is life
life is longing

it is the sharing that paints me into this unowned beauty 



there is no separation
no things to be separate
nor one big thing to be divided

only in the languaging do there seem to be things and events
only in the languaging do I seem to appear
and yet, intuiting this un named, unknowable
edgeless liquid world
always obviously
pervasive
like the deep hush before dawn
it never leaves
and it is not separate from the paltry world of things
it feels like love and an unspeakable wondrousness has supersaturated the dream of things

with languaging the stream of perceptual input not separate from the aware-ing of it, trees and mountains seem to bloom into being
and as soon as the worded world becomes populated with things
there is an anointing of self
and other

so is there an un named world of flowing shape and color
which cannot be caught or held
a magical world that cannot be known?
perhaps intuiting this is the liquid magic we long for but can never find
as it is not a place
but is always the case

everyone knows these waters
they dip their toes into them from time to time
when melting into a sunset
or a lover
but it can be scary to recognize this
as we cannot exist there
there are no things there
there is no there 
there

bathed in and as wordless wonder
songs seem to paint me into the dream of things
but there is no paint
no painter
no dream



You are a flowing masquerade 
Of thought dreams 
Stories unowned... 
in sharing our stories we are singing love songs to each other 
We blend in this liquid love dream and when there is no looking for solidity 
It feels like yes 
We are each other 
Each other’s echoes 
There is no source to the sound of love 

Life as a human being is filled with great sadness deep despair and overwhelming joy
And love is in the sharing 

Only through imaginary separation  can there be awareing of awareing 
And that is where we appear 
Where love and beauty live 
and breathe 



turning earth
spinning heavens
shells left by the tides

time dissolved into the flowing waves
and left
nothing
no empty footsteps for you to follow
or fill

liquid
this life without knowing
no need to find
any thing
or nothing

suspended as the hush
in the swirling
love has no anchor
she cannot be lost
or found
neither can you
be lost 
or found

aware-ing of aware-ing
in the dream of edgeless wonder
and the dream of things
not separate from the liquid stream of perceptual input

vast, edgeless beyond knowing
intuited liquidity supercedes and saturates the dream of solidity
walking as edgeless wordless wonder
and watching words appear on this screen
amazed as things seem to bloom under my fingertips

doves swooping down to the feeders
golden finches hanging upside down on their nets of thistle seeds
coffee maker burbles
the hum of aliveness
sings


did you hear the wind last night
rustling through leftover leaves
sailing through the clouds
swooning through the moon?

sky wind trees 
sun
everything is dancing
with everything
you cannot find the dance
there is no out or inside

and who longs to waltz along the road above the sky
lose themselves in the grandeur of this magic
that they feel is all around them
but can never touch

and you lose yourself in the longing
as the longing is you
yearning to hold the magic
is the magic

intrinsically knowing that life is magic
knowing you are dying
you are the longing to find something
anything to hold on to

you search through ancient texts
and listen to the modern masters
you walk in meadows with flowers brushing your knees
you lay among the grasses
waiting...
for what?

all you can 'know' is this seamless edgless indivisible symphony of perception... and the knowing of it is inseparable from this flow

all is utterly liquid including the heart that wishes to grasp it
all handholds are falling
all solidity dissolves
it never was
there is no never
or forever

trees waltzing with sky
the lines begin to blur
amazing dance of dissolving lace
tears
falling
the beauty of unknowing
of not grasping
of empty hands
empty hearts
dissolving
into the immediacy of this dance they never left


she could never find her skin
without the outline of sky
nor her nakedness
without another dancing
nor this love
she knew was not hers
nor anyones
to have and hold
inner space
outer space
words lost their meaning....
meaning lost its meaning

trying to ease the dizzyiness
of chasing her tale
she lay on the banks of midnight
and drank deeply the stars
turning twisting madly spinning
inside merged with outside
her skin of liquid fire horses 
rearing
bursting into sky


she could never find her skin
without the outline of sky
nor her nakedness
without another dancing
nor this love
she knew was not hers
nor anyones
to have and hold
inner space
outer space
words lost their meaning....
meaning lost its meaning

trying to ease the dizzyiness
of chasing her tale
she lay on the banks of midnight
and drank deeply the stars
turning twisting madly spinning
inside merged with outside
her skin of liquid fire horses 
rearing
bursting into sky

prism of wind paints colors soaring soaring
in you as you through you...
forming and erasing you
wind dissolves into sky
sky into wind
rainbow transparency has no color
it is color
things are not full of emptiness
nor is emptiness
this edgeless world
has no love
without the colors that you are


howl of winter
howl of moon
howl of your aloneness
echoeing 
in these liquid halls of memories 
of all the firery autumns
and springs blossoming
summer streaming
long
slow 
waves
lapping
on a shoreless sea
kissing their reflection
through rainbow ocean spray
sound of your aloneness
melts
into the rythm of your breath
your heartbeat

screaming lullabyes
will not save your flesh from melting
your bones from burning
the very core of your being
exposed
to be nothing at all

no one howls
no one answers
it is only echoes
burning

and how beautiful the wind
scattering love's ashes

we are simply stories that seem to paint themselves
as they self erase
there is no backdrop of time or place
outside of the story
and this is
a story
an illusion

how wondrous
to be a magical hologram
dancing across this mind stream
no me nor others
no things nor their absence
no time nor timelessness can be found
and it is truly beautiful
this imaginary life
where beauty and love blossom
and fall
and death is certain


what beholds the universe is not separate from it
is there a world
outside
is there an outside?
empty shells hold the breath of ocean
wind is an empty breath
love has no breath
outside of yours

we are all stories of love
and love lost
they swirl inside our empty breast
we can feel the hum of our aliveness
colors
turning
leaves
falling
tears
dissolving in an empty room
where our aloneness hovers
and the ache for love
sings
like this
hello
I love you
let us share this great aloneness

and they waltzed in the winds where sorrow and joy merged
falling into each other
they disappeared

they never were
it was always only 
echoes
dancing



this obvious spontaneous edgeless symphony of perception and its simultaneous inseparable recognition is unknowable....
undifferentiated .....liquid.... it consists of not even nothing... as it has no edges, no outside or inside, it is not an it....

as you reach our your hands to touch you are obviously not separate
do not your hands also appear in this symphony of perception?
is not the recognition of this symphony also the symphony?
is there ever awareness without perception? 

no separation whatsoever

if it feels like there is a separate you and separate things and events, are you separate from that feeling?

seamless wordless wonder is never not and has never not been the case, it simply was perhaps not noticed or rarely noticed, as you, an imaginary noticer, seemed to aquire layers of opalesance.... 
like a liquid shell without a pearl, luminescence sliding through luminescence... layers of transparancy seemed to form a window between you and your world
and you, these scintillating rainbow overtones of memory are only as thick as thought,
and thick is a thought....
thought is thought

what can be said when there is no what?

without the knowing of knowing.... imaginary separation ... no flowers exist .....there is no beauty

walking along the sidewalk you can almost feel the continents drift.... the center of the earth is liquid... 
fireflies drift
garden of stars
where does the light in your night time dream come from?
how is it different from day?
where are the stars
what is starlight
all words are defined by other words
word is a word...

there is nothing to hold onto
no hands separate from what seems to appear
no things to grasp other than in the names that seem to capture a bit of starlight
no heart separate from love
no love separate from you


and you are safe
surrounded by a wall of liquid echoes and reflections
a tiny gap and a piercing light appears
and you are compelled
and fearful
for your world no longer seems solid

what can you really know?
you say you were born on a certain day
but you know that that is hearsay
and was it really you who tried to run away from home
or is it just a story your parents told you 
over and over
and was it you sitting on your grandfathers lap
or is that simply a photograph on the wall
what is real
what is not
questions fall through questions
a delicious spaciousness appears
the curtain parts
the veil of solidity dissolves

memory is liquid
thought slides through thought
what can you really know?
the past is memory
and the future an idea
there is no thing called now....
all of life seems to appear
and simulaneously dissappear
it does not linger
or fade

yet there seems to be an aftertaste
overtones and undertones
minus the original sound
like a dream you once remembered
it feels
beautiful
to not be able to capture
or hold
anything
or nothing

the hush before sunrise
leaves
scattered
by autumn winds
the storm is over
all is bathed in an unutterable radiance
the illusion of inside
and outside
is gone
all beliefs have popped
they never contained a thing
there never were any things
no mountains
no valleys
no space
in between
no time between here
and there
no where to do
nothing to get
no one to wander endlessly looking for eternity
no hand no heart separate from the dream of 
everything and nothing

and it is bittersweet to realize that your life has been a story
and still is
and that knowing you are dreamt
is the dream
as well have been all your lovers
and all you have lost
in love
in war
in this dream of splendid aliveness

in this dream of exquisite beauty
there is love

and it is not bad or good
real or unreal
not this nor that
nor both nor neither




she was the longing for love, the longing to return to the garden where she did not exist
and found she had no actual existance anywhere
just a liquid trail of memory
shared learned words seemingly slicing up this sensorial banquet
which no one can deny or explain
all the whys left
all the looking for solidity
all the looking....

walking through the abandoned city we walked to the edge of everything and nothing at all....
we sat in the grasses by the edge of the cliff at sunset and watched a group of white monkeys slowly pass between us and the sun.... you know how their fur gets back lit and they are so beautiful... as they wandered from tree to tree... enchanting... 
and the softness of their fur and the softness of the light...  this enchantment is ever present now... no conjuring needed... yet it is all conjured... a magic trick of this and that and light and shadow
caressing all things into existence 

in a way we are all ancient cities
we are all wandering down memory lane.... into the blazing sunset

how strange and beautiful that we can share these memories these stories that we are, and become each other... in the sharing ...this is love......

how rich and lush these memories... that we are... and reaching out to touch... tears... such beauty... in the longing
to touch
I love you

all we can do is describe
but in the sharing of these stories
we can almost
touch
can you hear your heart weeping
or is it mine?

'this' is inconceivable and unknowable, and yet in the description (which can never catch 'this' edgeless seamless liquitidy) all things seem to arise... 
it is the knowing of this unknowalbe-ness that is sublime... as this is the end of looking for solidity... for understanding... and the emergence of the knowing that there are no things to know and no one to know
anything
or nothing

'this' is indescribeable yet in the describing things like 'this' seems to arise...

the doves have come and sparrow song fills the garden
first tires on the road
why would anyone look for emptiness
it has no actual existence
simply another imaginary thing
like you



all we can do is describe
but in the sharing of these stories
we can almost
touch
can you hear your heart weeping
or is it mine?

'this' is inconceivable and unknowable, and yet in the description (which can never catch 'this' edgeless seamless liquitidy) all things seem to arise... 
it is the knowing of this unknowalbe-ness that is sublime... as this is the end of looking for solidity... for understanding... and the emergence of the knowing that there are no things to know and no one to know
anything
or nothing

'this' is indescribeable yet in the describing things like 'this' seems to arise...

the doves have come and sparrow song fills the garden
first tires on the road
why would anyone look for emptiness
it has no actual existence
simply another imaginary thing
like you

dawn holds your empty breath
between the pause of midnight

flowers unfurl and rip off the face of darkness
bleeding sunrise into a song the night forgot

it was in her pocket
of empty shadows
where you wandered
looking for light
never noticing the brilliance
of endless galexies spinning inside your neurons

mouthing the words of others tied you to the sky
which had no ropes
no solidity other than these words
sliding into other words
no things exist
outside of words

outside is a word
word is a word

grasping an imagainary moment
it falls through its own grasping
your hands your heart have no colors
outside of this song
they fall through an empty rainbow
that has no end
or beginning

the love you longed for is in the longing
there is no finding
or losing 
love



who is that person in the mirror?
is there a person there?
is there a there?
is there a here?
or are there just sensations flowing... and a lasso of thought that seems to capture a face... memory fills in the blank.... of a you and other and time... flowing... emerging and dissolving simultaneously without a background of even emptiness



when you are not.......
there is no happiness nor sorrow...

many write me
they long to erase themselves
they think there is a place outside of this human existence they can reach... a place always in the sun
a place without sorrow without pain....
without death
but there is no place outside of this worded world
this thought dream of this and that 
this is where love and beauty live and breathe
through the prism of you life seems to taste itself
feel its own aliveness
can you feel this pulsating aliveness?
is it in you or outside of you?
all sensation is a confirmation of your beautiful aliveness
all emotion is a confirmation of your beautiful humanness

face it, life as a human being is hard.
Life is full of great joy and deep deep sorrow and despair. 
No one gets out unscathed. 
Everyone has loved and lost love. 
We are blessed to know that life is precious and we are blessed to know that someday we and everyone we have ever known and loved will die. This brings about this preciousness.
most of all, we are blessed to love.

there is no other better more 
or next
yes, all separation is imaginary 
you are imaginary
trees mountains
time
is imaginary
love
is imaginary

oh! the first doves are swooping down to the frozen ground
I forgot to fill the feeders last night



always new and always familiar like a deja vu rolling through itself... neither forwards or backwards... neither still nor moving.... tears fall and they have no gravity...

there was never a place to land or a place to arrive... no one was falling... gravity an illusion, as lightness itself is an idea...

light and dark seem to caress you and your world into being
it is always only, and just as it seems

this is not like childhood for there was no knowing of the wowness that explodes in this never always first and last kiss...

there is no one or thing looking through these eyes... yet seeing seems to happen... hearing tasting touching 
feeling... 
an infinte seamless edgeless sensorial display
that has no actual things
yet all and everything seem to appear
a flower blooming
wilting
petals
tears
doves at the feeders


like the small birds that fly in our house and think the way out is through the window… and I coo at them softly and walk sideways towards them and slowly bring my hands around them.  I make sure to let them see out as they put their tiny claws on my fingers… and I bring their soft bodies outside and open my hands…. Sometimes they fly away without pause, sometimes they wait, a bit, …or more… and realize they are free…

and there are stars

just waiting to bloom

echoes of ancient light

deep in your heart

where you dare not look

there is an ache

beckoning...

sun falls through the horizon

light into dark

dark into light

clouds and continents drift...

outer space falls through inner space

can you gather space?

is it full?

is it empty?

where is the place where starlight shimmers?

in the sky?

on the rippling waters?

in your eyes?

in your heart?

in your mind?

spinning around trying to find a place to land trying to erase this confusion that erupts when you look for something solid

and certain

something you can hold on to.... 

there must be a key

a perfect word

that will unlock the treasure you sense is near....

oh it is close, sure enough,

closer than the tongue in your mouth

closer than this very breath

closer than these words flowing through your mind stream

no one has ever captured starlight

but I can see it in your eyes

in your tears

in that ache in your chest

the longing for love

that you fear

that you have been running away from your entire life

you can feel this great emptiness

this void without even emptiness

there is a feeling that this fire can be quenched

this hunger can be stopped

this thirst to know to find to capture to hold life

to know love

is what you are

it may explode and you and your world will be extinguished

this fire consumes even itself

love's fire burns everything

even love

it is only after love 

and the world as we knew it dies

blooms this all encompassing love

but you cannot reach it or have it

it is merely the belief that love is a thing separate from you

that prevents the recognition of love's all encompassing radiance