Un Danse d'Un

[Guest guest]

Boulder-strewn waterways

waiting for a slip-up, a face-fall,

a pratfall into foolish notions of

"now i throw me down the steep

and slipperly slope of identification

with past experiences."

i associate, it seems sometimes,

with some "other."

Donkey stuck in the mudbed

with no driver no rider no direction to go

and still heading for Mecca, blindly.

i bind myself to the past when i find myself

aghast at any given situation arising.

Breaching my own etiquette

i serve the dog to the scraps.

Vasanic grasping fills the grip with snarl,

with snatches of a long-gone,

grating melody of giving in to fear,

giving in to beliefs of insubstantial content

and going along with the idea

that there is anyone to be affected

by anything.

Ever.

Give it up, girlfriend.

Kick it to the curb and curb

the appetites that consume,

costumed in the disguise of an "I" and a "you."

"Well! I never!" says the other

whom we mistakenly presume even exists.

Presumptions and assumtions assume size

and velocity as they verify with the ego, this -

i am the vault and the verity of Vishnu's creation...

NOT!

i am not here to preach or teach or pretend to know

a n y t h i n g.

Praise is the face that mirrors my Heart.

Praise is the gaze gawking out at what gawks back.

Give it upGive it upGive it up,

and It gives up everything,

as It Is Now.

Nothing left to give,

no place to go,

nothing needing the nightcap of knowing,

just this inner glowing of, of, of

Divine Intoxication of Nothing-Bliss

needing no one to validate It into Verity.

Verily, i vouchsafe the gem of the three gunas -

i am nothingcomefromnothinggoingnowhere.

Now, where's the Sommelier, Shiva,

the Vat-maker, Vishnu,

the Bringer of Bellisima Bardos, Brahma,

going to find another all-day sucker?

i sailed at high-tide into the Wine of Mystery.

Now, the Sea of Self is Silent, Still,

untilled groundwater, Self-Luminous.

The Lost Coast is the last beach

moving beneath our feet

as we move not,

are not moved

to knowing

what Is.

It... well,

It simply Is

What It Is -

L'Amore Mer's Mort.

More.

More than That.

Mechant Danse d'Un Guerre par Dissolution.

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie