Chapter 93 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


XCIII

You many use another’s ladder,
But the climb is your own.

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Fabricated loyalty is a loose bond.

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The big view is sanity’s heart.

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The ultimate point to all this is an opportunity
To discern where the true mystery lies.

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How frail ego.

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As long as it doesn’t happen to you.

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What a strange and unique thing to be alive.
How many ways each of us perceive its passing.
How many ways we choose or choose not to value it.
How many ways we confuse ourselves in it.
How many ways we find to explain it.
How many ways we become
Complacent in our ignorance of it.

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It has all just happened.
Did you really have any say in it?

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Have you always enjoyed being alone?

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If you shit in your nest you must sit in it.
If you shit in your water, you must drink from it.
If you shit in you food, you must eat it.
A mind full of shit must dwell
In its shitty creation.

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It is indeed a troubled world
That denies its essential nature.

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Consciousness manipulates the chemistry.
It is a drug very few are not addicted to.

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You didn’t ask to be here.
You don’t pray to stay,
But while here,
How can you help
But see it your way?

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So, who’s normal anyway?

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Any way.

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The best moments are the content ones,
The ones where just being is enough.

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What you were, you no longer are,
Lest you cling to the memory.

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How is it one fortunate and another is not?
What is this thing we call fate?
Such a mystery.

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Any sense of superiority is the foundation of delusion.

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Mind expands through surrender
To a greater reality than your own.

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Amazing what some follow.

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Cockroaches are not finicky creatures.

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What a price to be paid for this expensive meal,
And we have yet to even begin our just deserts.

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Who would have guessed
Where technology would all lead
Even a lifetime ago?

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Foolish masters of our own creation.

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I am whatever you think I am,
Yet I am none of it.

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If you have enough love for one,
You have enough for all.

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All hierarchies fall into a meaningless blur
Of words once you discern the ultimate fate.

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Easy to pretend you’re detached
When things go well.

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Who’s pretending who’s insane?

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Every act of creation has it statistical print.
The rise and fall of its temporal reality.
Permanence is ever an illusion.

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Sometimes you have to allow people
To hit rock bottom so they can decide
If they want to stay there for themselves.

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Only subjectivity differentiates any given moment.

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Disconnect.

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What will this day wrought upon tomorrow?

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How can you leave
If you really don’t know
Where you started?

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Here to infinity in just a moment.

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You are insane past counting.

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You are the product of you sensitivity.

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It may not make sense now.
Perhaps you will discern more resonance
If you peruse it again a little further down your journey.

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Any community is only as firm as its foundation.

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What bores these bureaucrats,
Politicians, priests and corporate chiefs.

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Why expect another to adopt your life
When it appears you have none.

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Amazing how some are forever
Cutting away their own nose.

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Funerals seem more than a bit ludicrous.
Why would someone need to prove a friendship
To someone outside the relationship?
Or play into their self-pitying,
Self-absorbed sorrow?

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You’re just fine wherever you are.

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Who give’s a damn past now’s favorite breath?

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You really believe s/he is any less
Self-centered than you?

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How many paradoxes can one life ascertain?

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If you think this was hell,
Don’t you wonder could be in store
If there should prove to be another round?

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You will be vain for as long as you are born.

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Is there birth without ego?

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There are no guarantees.

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A daily reminder that nothing lasts,
That all passes with a steadfast surety
That cannot but be romantically denied.

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Only vanity cares.

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You would have me bound to transience?

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Are you really all that different
From the things you condemn?

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Are you supposed to be impressed?

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Is time right or left, forward or back, up or down, in or out?
Is it whatever direction you choose,
Or none at all?

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As huge as huge is, as small as small is,
Where lies the difference?

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Do you focus on the demons
Or the angels who surround you?

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One more tie to illusion.

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All creatures dumb and dumber.

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All these creations are dust.

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Rarity or abundance
Are states of mind.

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These thoughts are for those
Who no longer need elevated words
To describe the mystery in which all reside.

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You so love a world
Which will not stand still
For your delusion.

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Can it ever be more than a numbers game?

* * * *
You are the candy.

* * * *
An asshole’s an asshole
No matter how sweet the fart.

* * * *
Does a cookie believe it’s a cookie?

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For those who are the beloved.

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Nothing is worth not dying for.

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If you are present in every moment
You will never die.

* * * *
Presence is immortal.

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Beating you head against a wall
Is beating your head against a wall.

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Back into the abyss.
Truly never left but through
The vagaries of consciousness.

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How else can Self be known
But through those that see?

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No fate is individual.
Change is born of indivisibility, of immortality.
You are none other than you.

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So much unproven self-importance.

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One now drifting from one now to the next,
Like snowflakes, all uniquely the same.

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So many so confused.
From what does clarity come?

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There is no second one.

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Would you want to be reborn
Into the world we are creating?

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Take care of it now, and you won’t have to later.

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Take the personal out of it and what’s left?

* * * *
Where’s the wisdom?

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You, you, and you again, always you.

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Nothing really to win, nothing really to lose.
Some play lose-lose, others win-lose, and some win-win.
Fairness and justice are in the eye of the beholder.

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A miracle for it to have happened.
A relief when it will be done.

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An epitaph:  Paroled at last!

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You are a story of the human epic.

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The countless masks of the same god.

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It is context which creates all theater.

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What is real clean?

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What a means to both pain and pleasure the body can be.

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Battling over pride-filled, vain notion,
They could no see it was only hot air.

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The whole of human history is an imaginary tale.

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The eternal spy, I Am.

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Sometimes it only takes one bullet
To end a problem.

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The trick to learning is to find someone
Who knows more squat than you.

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Somehow you survived.
Another was not so lucky,
Maybe.

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Caught in the net of our pattern,
We are drawn to our fate.

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All this has been written countless times before,
And still so few have the ears to hear.

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Stand, sit, lie, walk, run or die.
All time, all action ever occupies
The same unfurling wave of nowness
Passing through imagination’s
Infinite array of destinies.

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A two-headed question.

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How many live in a world which does not exist?

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What’s boon  to one species
May spell disaster to another.

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Time is the imaginary playground of consciousness.

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Apocalypse is within every moment’s passing,
As is creation.

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Every possible delusion awaits
Your gullible collusion.

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There are plenty making lots of money
Off your dread of the unknown
And desire for more.

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Imagine all the things you don’t know.

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What surprises can infinity not hold in store?

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The identity you believe you are is the little mind.
The Big Mind you really are is for those
No longer enticed by the duality
Inspired by the senses.


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