Wednesday, 07 December 2011 11:15

Gratitude and Grace Retreat

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An inner attack- is black
I learned today is a mass
And in terms of creating masses-
I am best in class.

And yet when I write there is
a hidden delight that I feel
most, most in the darkness starred night
I feel opened out-devout,
and my place on Earth
is not the place of my birth.

Who knew chakra 7 was what the
Ancients called heaven?
Who knew, who knew
That those who see heaven here below
There to heaven are sure to go-
and as the saying goes-
as in heaven, so below-
That is all there is to know!

Addict of complexity abhorring brevity
Lost joyfully in elaborations of poetry
Why reach a destiny
That will wipe out the words that
take me there-
why lose creative struggle, and drop all
cares?

It is as you say-
Who would I be today?
What would I have been tomorrow
If I left it all, all the sorrow
What would happen to the winning
of the scarcity game, and all the
words leaping from the mind's train?
How could I learn to die in this rain?

I am still a seeker in the
inner terrain-
and the Glory of God is, for now,
the converting into color and form
that which is pain disguised as plain.

But teachings force once to grow
And the main problem is we do not flow
So much reaping for all that we sow
Endless reaping, endless weeping
for all that we sow
and oh how we do not know what
in every moment- what in every moment
we sow.

We are pain and we are killers
Living in internal thrillers
Destroying with infantile fury
The very thing that could cure
And make us into deities-
Our stillness, from which arises
The following teaching-reprises:

-To accept with unhindered Heart the recognition of our Souls Great Life¹s
Art
when lost in seas like netted fish, caught in victimhood and self-pity

-And to everything, love- all that is below, as above
when selecting out pieces of the parts to keep us suspended above
self-doubt,
hooked, lying and not-as-thinkers

-And to know no one will ever know you- so there¹s nothing to hide
no one can judge the treasures inside

O Master Sanskara, Fear of Hatred and Rivalry
I strike you down!
Then
Love comes Around.

Give out, give up, give forth-
When you give everything,
Everything is yours
And out of what there is to give- there are
stores and stores and stores
I feel the aware-house within
Vast bundles of that-which-is-to-be-
-unraveled, untrammeled
all there is to be brought forth-
to couple with, join together, in
divine court.

To this there is no retort!
I sacrifice being the judge
of  my-this or you're that
and bust open the doors of the fort(e)
advancing on the scene as locus
of dream.piano, piano, very piano.

One advances into expanse
Of Beauty's expressive dance
Born of resting and remaining in
unshuttered Giving of God's Art
If an ego enters into this-
You lose the feeling-tone of perfectly
Pitched polished Philosopher's Stone-
You fall off the rock- and are caught
Between that- sick interjection of lost imaginary infantilized projection
-angry child
And a very hard place- once again the flow you have defiled!

I vow to stay where I know
myself  as "best" (God will take care of the rest!)
Rapturous oasis of date palmed pools
and solemn, undulating,
beckoning, empty-of-ego-dunes
filled with Song's Silent Tunes
where-
In such midst, there relaxes the fist
My entire Being is sun-kissed
By the Transformed Other's Eye of Bliss
All the World- wherever it is!-
shifts.

I ride my camel of Love
above
and below-
I give my love to you-
I give my love to you-
I promise- to give my love to you.
I promise not to hide that
pomegranate inside-
not to keep the best for last
or keep you on a love-fast.

Hafida leaves the desert
on foot and song
To go on and on and on and on

Last modified on Wednesday, 07 December 2011 11:21
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