The Sacred Call

Behold!

The drama and spectacle at this time unfolding,

Swarms of particles clashing and revolving.

Colors, sense, emotions, ephemeral goals,

The dance of the Everything meeting the All.

The movement forever, the Life is the essence,

Each symbol you now read is drenched with the Presence.

Each sound your brain translates, each mere speck of ink.

Your eyes that receive it, the concepts you think.

The light that surrounds you, the blood in your veins,

The ground that substands you, your loves and your pains.

The rocks and the rockstars, the gross and sublime,

My exact mental effort to come up with this rhyme.

The lung bags that cleanse you, and each of your cells,

Our shelters of concrete, and each who in them dwells.

All of our desires, all of our disgusts,

The fences we hide in - our shouldn't's and musts.

Each atom of substance in this One Reality,

Thoughts and soul as well, along with our vanity.

They're nothing but currents within the Great Flow,

The LIFE that CONTINUES, since Forever ago.

There truly is no other, if one allows Wonder

To transgress our veils and to rip them asunder.

The Power of Life is the magic within

This present existence oft thought of as grim.

The self has no rest from this burning Yes

Once the Truth has been given ecstatic ingress.

Intense is the essence of this River's Flow:

We only keep swimming, wherever we go.

The burning is real, for God is a Fire,

And He burns all that crosses His Fiery Desire.

The veils that once clothed us, the walls that defined,

None last when they're sacrificed to the Divine.

Though he who seeks respite can indeed look away,

Intentional hindrance only leads astray.

The pain that eventuates during the cleanse,

Is small fee in our journey towards the Immense.

"Relax ever gentler", the Fire demands.

I feel it light up strong my guts and my hands.

The barriers are melting to reveal the Great Tree,

As my mind surrenders its doubting "maybe...".

The Truth is we are Oneness, infinitely free,

And this Now is the game we have chosen to be.

Let us bask in sacred motion, whether sane and mundane,

Or in willing quest forward, through fear and pain.

Glory in this Allness that lives in us all.

It drenches the whole of the large and the small.

Tis nowhere but here. It is inside, Here...

Let go of your layers so you can listen clear.

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So near...

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In this breath that disappears...

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Into every corner this mind veers...

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We are the Holy Garden.

Together.

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Let us work.

Breathe

Upon the knowing of the Boundless One,

we can then choose

to notice and explore our membranes

so they perceive further, and can then

fuller

deeper

breathe

Twig

If I be a twig in the vast and unfathomed Tree

of the Whole

let my alignment with my parent branches persevere,

and may I express the leaves, flowers, and fruits

the Tree wills to channel through me,

and may I faithfully perceive and transmit rootward

the Truth that I touch.

If I be a leaf,

let me breathe and feel and transform the forms around me

for the growth and good of my siblings

and the wellness of my Whole

until my form is spent, my materials worn,

and the Tree reclaims my essence

back into Its Whole

when the weather is soon to colden

when wind and rain break my willing grip.

Anger

Exothermic anger

wills to quickly expand

and it will either be contained within

    an inner pressure chamber, sustained with effort,

or it will explode uncontrolled,

    splashing all within its range,

or it will be channeled by inner mechanisms,

    crafted by habit or intention

    to produce directed change.

Be it flamethrower, firearm, bomb,

red-hot iron, furnace, or engine,

designed by mind, fulfilled by body.

Boundless

When knowledge, desire, will, thought,

atom, cell, form, body,

appeal, opinion, pain, fear, pleasure,

goal, plan, consciousness and love

are known as but dense and light fluids

in various degrees of viscous, potency, and speed

both turbulent and smooth,

when they are revealed to be

but streams of light

reflected and fractalled across all the dimensions,

channeled and poured through our collective Being,

their glamour of separate,

of multiple idols and conflicting concepts

dissolves into the One Vast Ocean

in which we live and move.

The Beingness we all share,

the Wind in which we are wisps,

the Boundless All that is One.

Materials

Clay and hay

Sand and land

Trees and breeze

Sads and mads

Helps and whelps

Smiles and styles

Pains and gains

Frays and mays

Wants and can't's

Will and thrill

Love and dove

Word and sword

Art and heart

Soul and coal

Length and strength

Time and rhyme

Pace and space

Flesh and mesh

Air and prayer

Blood and mud

These are our materials

This is our building ground.

Let us sculpt and build the truth

of this Life that surges within

That We Are.

Power

Power is effectively wielded by those
Who admit, embrace, and exercise it
Intelligently, decisively, transparently,
And with primary intent of service.

Many tend to downplay/veil their power
Due to unnecessary habit
Of self-deprecation as an image for humility.
Such veiling disturbs the flow of power
And if held, results in blockage, untruth,
Suppression, and violence.

Such veiling is counterproductive.
Wield power candidly
With fullness and clear intent.

Penetration

The projection of that which flows into

empty space not flowed into before,

tis but literal cosmic penetration

as aeonically the cosmos unfolds,

and in its universal child nature,

explores, plays, creates, and loves itself.

Dikes

It is the fences of old

peeling, crumbling ancient fences

that remain between us

that impede the flow across

those of us who can share.

Old fences and stone walls

markers left behind by

generations and cultures long past

long gone

long forgotten

are the ones that prevent

us neighbors from sharing ourselves

with each other.

The habit of keeping

keeps hidden our money and care

keeps guarded the goods we tend to

believe are our sources of worth.

We keep all "our own" from each other

because that's what we've learned to do

because those old fences and stone walls

are unknown legacy, much older than me and you

and WHO KNOWS what OH LORD might happen

if we tore down those ancient lines through.

We keep all "what's mine" from each other

as ransom to trade for "what's yours"

for just as I don't just give you what I have,

just so others offer me no dues.

Mirrored from the fear of giving

is spawned the fear of receiving

for an other's intention is not seen

and the giver's may come out to be mean.

Prickly limits are built as barbed wire

sometimes buffed with cameras and mines

but the tighter we squeeze at our boundaries

the less freedom we have to be just fine.

Our dikes and our dams and our stop valves

were set up long centuries ago

but their builders did not design them

for the race into which we have come to grow.

Their rigidity smells of obsolescence

and they often impede desired flow

hoarding oceans gilded and guarded

while mere trickles suffer others to grow

but the "reverence" many assume for the ancient

blinds them to the sorely-needed overhaul.

We are not but hollow containers

worth only what we come to contain.

We are living homes, which though require upkeep,

could so very much more potently help each other sustain.

The long-winding path of the eternal builder,

inevitably tears down what once was new

but the husk must be shed over and over

if we are to know and be what is true.