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Rest assured,
Even the scribe
Is undeniably clueless
Where all these words will lead.
* * * *
Just doing his good deed,
The boy scout who never was.
A tamed beast, infinitely loyal
To that which is all the same.
* * * *
There is no context
Through which the travelers
Have not journeyed many, many times.
Wisdom is not easily won.
And even then,
The path less taken
Is as woefully treacherous,
And, most certainly and assuredly,
As ever-humbling as ever.
* * * *
Life.
Sooner or later
It’ll kill you.
* * * *
But first, a word from our sponsors.
* * * *
Abscond while you may,
You thief in the night.
* * * *
Those who do no subscribe
To the current romanticisms
Are elevated or shunned,
It does not matter which.
* * * *
That you are not yet destroyed
Is the surety that your course
Is well sent in the play of time.
* * * *
For whatever history
May or may not
Say of such scribes,
Their thoughts chime true.
* * * *
For most certainly,
This is both the pinnacle
And the pit
Through which humanity is passing.
* * * *
We each choicelessly play out the fate
Spun out by the genetic wheel of fortune.
It is as sure as you first breath
Will find a way to its last.
All equally timeless in the dusty maelstrom
* * * *
Serendipity fuels countless adventures.
* * * *
Do not allow the meek
Chance see too deeply into your eyes,
Lest they be paralyzed with the most unwavering terror
Before it is their time.
* * * *
Death is the most resolute of foes.
It hath no pride,
And will merrily pursue
Through whatever heaven or hell
The mind in all its twistings can so readily devise.
* * * *
It is not God or the Devil
Who cause you so much suffering.
It is yourself.
* * * *
Bliss
Is right here,
Right now,
But are you?
* * * *
A touch of true wild abandon.
* * * *
Word processing is such a wonderful invention.
* * * *
You struggle so hard
To get to the top
Of one pile or another
Only to find it really is no different
Than any other time or place along the way.
* * * *
It’s all process, baby.
And where are you
Along the way?
* * * *
Tee-hee.
* * * *
Among many other things,
A penchant for aphorisms, I’d say.
* * * *
Curiouser and curiouser
That someone hasn’t seen fit
To off you just yet.
* * * *
Quicksand feels
So remorseful
That it cannot help
But want to draw you closer.
* * * *
Just bone and fluids waiting to happen.
* * * *
Sigh…
The cat is not quite hungry just yet…
Sigh…
* * * *
It’d be just too strange
To suddenly have
Everyone
Knowing your name.
* * * *
This is not for those
Who cherish safe,
Insipid, petty lives.
* * * *
Love is such a handicapped word.
* * * *
The telling is in the truth.
* * * *
Bread and wine is so Messiah 101.
Now, cutlery and goblets, that’s another matter.
Jesus never even scored on that one.
* * * *
The news is only as accurate
As its reporters are thorough.
* * * *
I may lead,
But do you have the courage to follow?
* * * *
Ahh, the proverbial trust-god-
But-tie-up-your-camel reminder.
Nothing like of dose of day-to-day
To ground your earthly reality.
* * * *
Every creature your brother.
Be ye Cain or Able?
* * * *
Nothing extraordinary happened today.
* * * *
Growing larger and larger,
Consuming everything in its path,
The beast destroys all forms
Until, with one final,
Painful belch,
It collapses
Of its own weight.
* * * *
Greed is a penniless journey.
* * * *
Which is surely not the way
Any decent god
Would have intended it.
* * * *
Your true perfection
Is muddied by the many flaws
To which you are so resolutely attached.
* * * *
Nothing hurts as much as imagination.
* * * *
Why shouldn’t you enjoy your existence
In whatever way fate allows?
The challenge
Is to do it without infringing
On others who share the same prerogative.
* * * *
Nothing matters near as much
As you would like to believe.
* * * *
What an amazing dream you have existed.
* * * *
Imagine you’re already dead.
What’s left to do?
* * * *
What an funny thing this concept of time.
What is a watch or calendar, really,
But an attempt to be secure
In a completely insecure reality?
* * * *
Relax!
You’re just an imaginary filament
Born of time and space.
Nothing to get worked up about, really.
* * * *
A well-kept secret is kept alone.
* * * *
Who cares what you think about anybody?
Or what anybody thinks about you?
* * * *
Ponder the incessant inner monologue.
* * * *
When there’s no other way you would do it,
That’s the zen moment.
* * * *
Judge the world,
And it will judge you.
* * * *
Compassion is the end of judgment.
* * * *
Cynicism
May be the most challenging attachment
To leave behind.
* * * *
Now, That you can fall in love within.
* * * *
Nothingness gazing out
At the sensory somethingness.
The mystery of light’s origin.
* * * *
Another blooper.
Oh well.
* * * *
Fall into the bliss of effortless oblivion.
* * * *
None can judge you without your complicity.
* * * *
What a challenge to remember
In the mill’s daily gristing grind.
* * * *
Still yourself
To be
The stillness of Self.
* * * *
You are
THAT
I AM.
* * * *
Be still
And know
THAT
I AM.
* * * *
In the flash of a moment’s realization,
All disappears, and only one remains.
* * * *
Observe the sea of attachment
In which you everlastingly swim.
* * * *
The senses are the vibration.
* * * *
Is what you want for your Self
What you would wish for others?
* * * *
Forget yourself.
Remember your Self.
* * * *
Change into the changeless.
* * * *
About as astute as refried beans.
* * * *
Living the way you’re expected to
Is not a life worth emulating.
* * * *
How did you get here?
* * * *
Who were you before you were born?
Who will you be after you die?
Who could you ever be
But That now.
* * * *
Ponder the infinite matrix, the holograph,
Of the great All that can never be
More or less than one.
* * * *
The Cheshire Cat disappears to all but Self.
* * * *
Life gives many opportunities to show your caliber.
* * * *
Fear is not an inspiring choice.
* * * *
What would your existence be like
Without the many judgments
That cavort so callously
In your dream?
* * * *
Observe the way it is,
Not the way
You want it to be.
* * * *
You are part of it, too, you know.
* * * *
It’s all about patterns, designs born of the spontaneity of time.
Patterns we like are regular, normal, comfortable, relaxing, sure.
Those we don’t like are irregular, abnormal, uncomfortable, unsure.
Thus good and evil are created in the garden that knows neither.
* * * *
Life is never pressing,
But what we make it so.
* * * *
An honest accounting is all one can ask.
* * * *
What else can nature do
But give way with total passivity?
Beware the beguiling embrace, however,
For it is the potential for every sort of hellish ruin.
* * * *
The ground of one day
Will mulch you into the next.
* * * *
You may be the greatest amusement of all.
* * * *
Enticing exteriors
Can so easily ensnare
The unsuspecting.
* * * *
Eventually, it will all pass,
And be as if it never was.
Such is the infinite nature
Of the eternal changing.
* * * *
Suicide is about not caring
What others think anymore.
* * * *
All is ordered
For you to witness
As you do.
* * * *
Even unto the nth degree,
It is really all the same.
The only differences
Hinge entirely
Upon the capacity
To comprehend the irony.
* * * *
Ask not for whom the bell is tolling,
Unless you are ready to hear
That it may be for thee.
* * * *
How much are you living for others?
* * * *
What insanity desire hath wrought.
* * * *
Totality equally embraces all creation and destruction.
* * * *
The Antichrist is risen,
And it is not what was expected.
Be wary the assumptions
Set before you.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved