04 October 2009

Chapter 199 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CLICIX

Open your Self
To the near infinity
Of possibilities.

* * * *
You never know when it will be time.

* * * *
Why would you waste this day
In another’s movie?

* * * *
You are your interests.

* * * *
Reality is a grand holograph
Prior to any sensory reading.

* * * *
So absolutely lonely
That only the aloneness
Of nothingness
Can fill it.

* * * *
Is the dreaming
Between waking and sleeping
All that different?

* * * *
The order of time veils the chaos of reality.

* * * *
Even the applause of the entire universe
Would not sate a lonely, incomplete soul.

* * * *
A lot of tollbooths
Using little neon signs of Jesus
At the collection plate.

* * * *
Look what havoc five senses hooked into imagination can create.
What if there were seven or thirty-seven, or one hundred seven?

* * * *
Way too many distractions for one lifetime.

* * * *
Consciousness is merely a thin veneer cloaking the abyss.

* * * *
Is death an ending, a beginning,
Or just a transition to another show.
It’s all conjecture until show time arrives.

* * * *
A snowball in time.
What more will the journey bring?

* * * *
What a bitter aftertaste so many pleasures bring.

* * * *
The nothingness nobody sees.

* * * *
The wafting smoke,
No direction known.

* * * *
The leash of time.

* * * *
Not all that complicated, really.

* * * *
It is the drama queens
That make so many things miserable.

* * * *
Very challenging to be free
Of all the things
To which one clings.

* * * *
So hard not to fall asleep again and again.
Becoming Buddha 24/7/365 until death do you part
Is a road few have the capacity to journey.

* * * *
Such a mix to sort through and move beyond.

* * * *
Anonymous like a shadow.

* * * *
Across infinity, every conceivable experiencing
Happening in one here-now or another.

* * * *
To not care one iota.
How freeing.

* * * *
Doing nothing ranks high on the things-to-do list.

* * * *
Awakening is a lost and found exercise.

* * * *
How many scientists truly have no agenda?
Is it even possible?

* * * *
You have all the tools you need
To go all the way to where your now stand.
It is a discerning determination that will set you free.

* * * *
Will the masses ever really comprehend
How many mystics amble among them?

* * * *
The paradox of being a true human being
Is that you really no longer are one.

* * * *
If not this form, then another.

* * * *
Key historical moments are like punctuation.
They demark endings and beginnings
In the affairs of consciousness.
Time, of course, carries on
With nary a shrug.

* * * *
The advent of self-imagery and knowledge
Gradually erodes the innocence of childhood.
To rediscover and reclaim the inherent simplicity,
One must allow all concern born of time to drop away.

* * * *
Taking it at all so seriously is the root of the absurdity.

* * * *
We certainly enjoy all our naming.

* * * *
In all our connecting, so much disconnectedness.

* * * *
You only get so many wake-up calls.

* * * *
Locked within every seed
Is the potential for destiny.

* * * *
The trouble with dissatisfaction
Is that it has no remedy.

* * * *
Natural selection creates
Every sort of mutation
Upon this mysterious garden.
Why, how, the scientists try to discern,
But knowledge ever disguises its own limitations,
And true ignorance is layered with endless coats of vanity.

* * * *
Craving does not hold a candle to bliss.

* * * *
Your awareness is the infinite ocean
And the senses are the waves crashing
Upon the bounded shores of time’s illusion.

* * * *
How wrapped up we are in our space-time dreams.
As if their duration and scope were eternally significant.
As if a brief swirl of silt is any more important than any other.

* * * *
Girls become their mothers
And boys their fathers
Often enough to applaud the exceptions.

* * * *
The moonlight upon the water
Is as genuine a reflection
As the moon itself.

* * * *
Your responsibility
To this world or any other
Is entirely up to you.

* * * *
The words of oracles
Are the inner voice
To which each has access
If they pay close enough attention.

* * * *
Rules in philosophical questing?
As ridiculous as any in a knife fight.

* * * *
Let time iron out the details.

* * * *
In cyberspace they may be great warriors.
But in life they are often slothful, fat and lazy.

* * * *
Men hypnotically stare
In desire-ridden genetic lust,
While the objects of their attention,
With practiced nonchalance,
Pretend not to notice.

* * * *
Dream bubbles press against one another,
Interacting, witnessing each other’s dream states,
Yet every calculation is ever a projection
Of one’s conceptual equation.
All are imagined reveries
And all ultimately pop
Into the oblivion
Of eternity’s
Timeless reality.

* * * *
Sexual fantasies play such a role
In all we have created.
Our lives are truly orchestrated
By the ebb and flow of the genetic structure.

* * * *
Dream the cave, or dream outside it
To discern the dreamer is the commonality
To which few have the fated capacity to explore.

* * * *
So many attaching so much importance
To their individual and collective dreaming
That they cannot grasp losing the investment.

* * * *
To climb any hill
Requires coming down it.
With every rise, a fall is inevitable.

* * * *
It is an ever-changing dream
Of an elemental functioning
Prior to any conscious perception.

* * * *
Taking nothing personally
Is an error of perception
To which we all succumb.

* * * *
Waves or particles.
Both or neither?

* * * *
Nor mirage can sustain a reckoning point for long.

* * * *
You allowed the world to bind you in its illusory prison,
And it is you who must discern the key
To unlocking eternity within.

* * * *
A watery mirage
Beckons your thirst,
Yet never gives you more
Than the desolate sands
Of unquenchable time.

* * * *
Only a fool would try so hard
To explain the inexplicable.

* * * *
In true peace, you no longer exist.

* * * *
You will conduct yourself in accordance
With the internal rules of your own making,
But what of those rare few whose beliefs
Have dissipated into the eternal mists?
Who be they who reside lightly within?

* * * *
What a lie the sense of identity is.
We all deceive ourselves
So completely.

* * * *
Where is a mind free of passion?

* * * *
Questions of a thousand dreams,
Answers never what it seems.

* * * *
Pure mind, pure heart.
The thunder of no-mind, no-heart.

* * * *
Odds are you cannot recall your birth,
And you know as little of your death.
Abide in the stillpoint of ignorance.

* * * *
How simple it all was
When you never worried
About losing everything.

* * * *
What makes one thing sacred, and another not?
All judgment is arbitrary.

* * * *
The essential is nothing to take personally.

* * * *
Each day builds itself.

* * * *
The play of words is all so meaningless, don’t you think?
Absurd echoes drifting through this silly little play of time.

* * * *
Infinitely absurd, that’s surely what it is, it is,
But it’s better than being alone,
One supposes.
In a very dark room
With no furniture, that is.
Nor even a floor for that matter.
After all, what is the majestic abyss,
But the eternal nada, forever and a day.

* * * *
A good sense of ironic humor is the best salvation.

* * * *
Close the book of law,
And there is no point
From which to judge

* * * *
May be better not to be out in public today.
May be a bit beastly.

* * * *
The only real solution to all your worries
Is death.
Either literally or figuratively.

* * * *
Your choice.

* * * *
Make it a transcending day, eh what.

* * * *
You may care,
But does the universe?
Does your imaginary little friend,
God,
Truly care?

* * * *
The majesty of the infinite absoluteness
Is well beyond your most galactic premise.

* * * *
It does not matter
Why
How
When
Where
These words were written,
Or by whom.
That they were written
Is the unceasing order of the day.

* * * *
A manifesto of divine origin.

* * * *
Babblewocky.

* * * *
No order known.

* * * *
Transcend your murky, plebian, parochial little world,
And see the infinite, pounding pulse of each and every moment.
You are the witness born to envision the totality
Of what you really are.

* * * *
To cloak your Self is paramount,
For there are but few
Who will jointly comprehend
The chameleon nature all forms play.

* * * *
The blind see only the dazzling play of changing light,
Missing entirely the clarity of awareness
Behind their deluded eye.

* * * *
You have co-created this spontaneous dream,
Yet have so little influence in how it unfolds
As to say you have virtually none at all.

* * * *
The course is set,
And none may reconvene the crew
To chart another.

* * * *
Your world is truly a private affair.

* * * *
Herein is given to that which has no name,
But to which the course of all time sings.
The song of godness knows no other.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved