The dam is kept murky,
ill and distorted
by its inability to be active,
although the heavens shower its blessing.
The stream is ever clear,
translucent, luminous
and forthcoming with life
because of its intention to flow.
The principle is there
for all to see and be,
the variance
lies between the lens
through which we choose to see from.
Namaste

What is the most valued thing to you
O' child of luminescence
What ails your heart when death approaches
Name this weight which grounds without humility
Share your value and hide your worth
Me doth thinks you are scared
Scared of not being seen
Scared of leaving individualism and being nothing
The same nothing that bore you earth and still you seek an atomic crown
Such a reputation your divinity has built for your body
No applause no pause no reflection only egotistic esotericism
Your self you keep for a select few
Your worth you limit by the number of fingers you count
Such a life you have built from nothing
Upon the gravesite of a child that once dreamt your life
The same child that gladly sacrificed itself so you may surface
What is it now that attaches you to this persona
Tell me now O' light bearer
Where can we find your flame
Was it the last thing you sold for gold
Who here can rise above this one thing
Who here is unburdened by the fear of loss
What is the least of your desires
O' man of pleasure
Can you not sit without your ale?

Look at that plant over there!
Embedded between concrete with no care.
Does it look worried if I stare?
Or does the the rubble on his sheen disturb his flair?
There's a lesson to learn from this creature so fair.
A good life it leads, happy with its share.
This is the tale of a plant that grew within the tear.

We must be light like water
Taking the path of least resistance
Until the land levels out
Every droplet coming together as one
And here we sit waiting to rise
Before the sun sends us back and forth

Hello
-
Hello?
-
Who are you?
I am.
Am what?
I am that I am.
And what is that?
Everything.
Be more specific!
I cannot.
Why not?
I have no point to measure up to.
What does that mean?
I conceived the self that I am, I speaks for me, I sees, hears, tastes and smells for me. But I am not the I.
What do you mean?
A mind that conceives its self cannot use its self to see its self. Just like a knife can't cut itself nor can fire burn itself.
So you are the mind?
I don't know.
I don't understand!
That's because you already know.
Now you have lost me!
That too is a concept you know and have chosen to pour energy into. Where energy flows there is life.
But I didn't choose to be confused!
You chose knowing over not knowing. Anything new to you has a point to measure up to.
Was I wrong?
I don't know.
What do you know?
Nothing.
How can you know nothing? Haven't you experienced anything?
To you nothing is a conception measured against having something. For me there is nothing to experience outside my self if I am everything.
So you are the creator?
I don't know.
Then what are you?
Nothing.
You can't be nothing otherwise you don't exist!
I don't exist.
What does that mean?
I am without form I am that I am. I measure up to nothing.
Now I don't understand!
So now you know. Because you have relinquished the desire and pursuit of knowing, of understanding. That is karma.
What is karma?
Ignorance of action.

You are going to fall
Brace your self to brawl
For your destiny
Exhausting your chesty
And living off
Each breath as if
The next were not guaranteed
Because this is the seed
Life grew from
A stenciled conundrum
Found in fellowship of a bee
And flowers reigning free
Where wind and sail
Chart the way askew the frail
You are going to fall
And you will want to crawl
And scout for crumbs
Until the knee bends and becomes
The servant of tribulation
Bowing to the puppeteers' constitution
Torn from self
You decorate the shelf
With accolades past and present
Idolizing the image you rent
From a faceless Lord
Who hands you the cord
To dangle your corpse
All in benevolence
Of pampering the collective consciousness
Filling the emptiness
With gurus, trinkets and wealth
Anything but the breath
That keeps alive
The entire hive
From a single exhale
That keeps a greeny dale
To the heart that beats once
Giving you one last chance
One last glance
At the ball of fire
A tapestry of ancient Maya.

I come to you now
Bearing gifts of wisdom
How you accept them
That i leave up to you
I know who you are
You are destined for greatness
learn to see past your fears
but do understand this
the more you think of them
they gaze right back at you
I come to you now
Bearing gifts of wisdom
Why you accept them
That you leave to me
Where your heart calls home
Is of your own choosing
With my light
Great is thy existence
For greatness alone
Is more feeling than thought
Gifts you shall receive
Unseen to the eyes of man
Give and you shall receive,
Give and you shall receive!
Cradle those arms of yours
As you take a knee
stroking that itch
You are now sitting with your fathers
We are to you as you are to us
As are your deeds to us
So shall our deeds be you
Alone we stand and ruined of our strength
And so is the plight of man
But to ye of little faith
Gifts you shall receive
Give and you shall receive
Surrender all false pretense
Rally with the rainbow warriors
For our individual strengths
Solidify our imaginations
Give a gift that keeps on giving

Will you compensate truth for fame?
With your skillful tongue more active than your
hand.
Will you continue to administer sorrow freely?
Incidently blessing whom you come into contact
with.
And what chalice do we dare drink from?
A potion cleansed in what is common and
unclean,
Because my life you require for the charge of
your own.
By design you will my motion to build adoration
for guilt
Because your shrine has institutionalized my guilt
as a virtue.
So guilty I am for rejoicing your esteem
Now my eye is ceit of your deceiving womb.
The divine being in me greets the divine beings in
you.

An experience before I,
One must at least try.
So I may die
Then All shall fly.
Because action without tact
Is an act masked in fact;
Your sight seen as cracked
And the blind will always react.
An experience before I,
As within we incide the tie
With out the mutiny of I
The self will multiply.
Transparent the self must be
Then All is seen as Thee.
When light has pierced your three
The experience before I is set free.

The advent day has come
And with it a lonesome
Fellow cloaked in black.
He trudges back
And forth; unseen by brailing sirens,
The gazing and scavenging talons.
He sways the crowd
By swelling the cloud,
Dispersing the onlookers
With the phobia of ombros.
Only the shepherd of the dead
Knows the folk lore of the serpents head.
"Ready my carriage," he says
"This soul is destined for better days.
Leave the body behind.
Let it stew with dust and sylvan kind
So seed may sprout, decay and replenish
Its androgynous abode afresh.
And I may keep a promise,
Finding solace within my grimace.
O' friend of mine;
Take a sip of cordial wine,
And rise from your pale souvenir,
Embellish your wings and climb the firmament tier.
Scour the stars, sun and moon's face
For the heaven promised beyond space.
The home of saints and martyr;
And when this path leads to a furnaced altar,
Know this as your fate
For going through the narrow gate.
A prudent soul you were not,
Always chasing the Dharmic knot.
By the power vested in me
I set your spirit free."