Tag Archive | existence

Seventeen Seconds

A Miracle's Creating In Moments

Seventeen is the number of seconds it takes
To create some momentum from one focused thought.
In that bit of time, can I think just of one thing
Without measuring pros and cons and what might bring
On a rabid complexity where mind is caught
In a game of survival that’s played at high stakes?

After holding a single thought consistently,
It gains attraction power. Thoughts most similar
Coalesce and get stronger within the spirit.
Energized, the emotions will play and not quit.
And there is not a danger of going too far
As the source of all being is much part of me.

Another seventeen seconds… then, another…
After sixty eight seconds, emotion runs high
And impulses come flooding in from everywhere.
Manifesting the good feeling puts me right there
Where the universe notices. No longer shy,
All the life I’m entitled to has to occur.

I can’t deal with conditions, but feelings I will
Change exclusive to anything that’s going on
Which is outside my sacred self who is at peace.
Every bit of the struggle I need to release
To the cosmos for processing. Much fear is gone
By performing this exercise just for the thrill.

Wonder

The Zest In Life

On a rock unimportant that circles a star
Insignificant on the outer edges of
A small galaxy nestled away in deep space
Is a petri dish species called the human race.
It’s a feeling of Wonder. We happen to love
This bizarre circumstance no matter who we are.

…At least, that’s how I think other folk would respond
To the weird situation consciousness is in.
I know some people tune that right out of their minds
And rely on fake thrills and rubbish of all kinds.
Insignificance blossoms until I begin
Noticing everything to which all have a bond.

This rock produces people as the apple tree
Generates tons of apples throughout its life span.
Alien life would find us most significant.
All that remains peculiar is also brilliant.
Can my eyes of a child make me a better man?
They were given to me so that I choose to see.

Between faith and belief, there’s a wide difference.
To believe is to wish. It’s a kind of a creed
Or a fervent hope that a certain thing is so.
But faith means there are things that I don’t have to know.
Hanging on to the rigidity at light speed,
The sensation of floating describes my suspense.

Death Is Fiction

...A Tiny Chapter in the Story of Eternity

In my life, have I ever died? Did I come back?
I can say that I’ve not had that experience.
Nor do I know another who’s done such a trick.
People come up with stories, then lay it on thick
To all ears that will hear them at their own expense
When their weak minds are susceptible to attack.

Have I ever met someone supposedly dead –
An ethereal wisp of a faint silhouette…
Or a form of some essence apparently true?
If I heard voices, folks would ask, “What’s Wrong With You?”
So, I’d never admit that. I’d have deep regret

If the dead spoke to me and I heard what they said.

I have not seen or met one beyond the doornail
Nor has anyone else with feet flat on the ground.
It takes imagination, special connection,
Or some measure of both before faith has begun
To depart from reality where all is bound
By the strict laws of physics that always prevail.

So, where does this idea come from that I’ll die?
The nonsequitur notion is fiction at best
Created by the limited view I allow.
There is life after life in the eternal now.
I shall not be accustomed to being at rest.
Death is merely a fairytale most will deny.

There Is No Insecurity

Well Worth Repetition

If God so clothed the ladybugs why should I fear
That I might become needy in ways that demean
Self-respect and life purpose? My faith tank is low.
Since Jesus is the boss’s son, shouldn’t I know
He’s also my big brother? Does that sound obscene?
Only that which is positive do I adhere.

He would not have been put to death in India,
Where the people believe we’re all God in disguise.
They would just have accepted him as a wise one.
But the task put upon him would not have been done
Were he not among wilder folk and much less wise
And with perverse attachments to harsh Roman law.

Today knowledge is plentiful as it has been
Throughout all human history. Teachings abound
For the self’s true awakening. Why do I wait?
Is it fear that my ego will not feel so great
Since it’s only a concept and nothing profound?
The chance to think of acting will come once again.

Transformation of myself into unattached
Selflessness is impossible. That is because
I have selfish reasons for wanting to do so.
In the death of the fake self the true one will grow
In accordance with all the spiritual laws.
In a nest of security my soul is hatched.

The Biggest Joke Of All

The Illusory Duo

Jokes I play on myself are imaginative.
If it weren’t for my trick self, I’d have none at all.
Some say I should get rid of it, But I cannot,
Because it thinks like I do. I’m all that it’s got.
Mostly it takes the big roles. I’m left with the small.
I ask myself if this is the right way to live.

But, alas, it can’t answer. It thinks everything
Is an intricate puzzle it only can solve.
When it can’t, it’s frustrated, as if it exists
As a viable entity. On it persists
In its ‘it-centric’ world where all things must revolve.
Onto some sense of purpose this person must cling.

So, there’s no getting rid of this subsequent dude
Come about like a tattoo etched over decades
Of abuse of his surface – a time tapestry
Of eternal becoming. The ink runs through me
But shows up not through thick skin. Freely it pervades
And presents as my ego. As such, I am screwed.

I end up doing nothing and leaving it to
That which is ever conscious and omni aware.
I can’t grasp nor rid myself of all I become.
I alone cannot get it. The getting comes from
Consciousness Universal which is everywhere.
There’s no need to get anything but a damned clue.