15 October 2013

Chapter 272 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


CCLXXII

What would our ancestors likely think of us now?
A time far more decayed and self-absorbed
Than could have been even imagined
Just a few centuries, or even decades ago.

* * * *
Any deception is played out upon audiences
Mesmerized by wishful thinking
And slights of hand.

* * * *
To which of its countless creations
Will humankind finally succumb?

* * * *
Each moment its own memory-inspired flavor,
With a tinge of the instinctual to lend it conviction.

* * * *
So many things taken for granted until they are gone,
And then all that is left is the fading memory
That leads one to believe it was real.

* * * *
Yet another theater of the absurd,
Which must be endured to whatever end,
And perhaps by luck or chance,
Thy Self discerned.

* * * *
A barbarian is herein defined
As one not bound by the conventions
Of the groupthink under siege.

* * * *
The ultimate reality abides prior to any collusion,
And for those who earn their livelihood playing middleman,
Who choose vanity over integrity, deceit over truth,
Life is but a small-minded shadow dance.

* * * *
Not at all in the mood for any man-made absurdities this day,
A lengthy wandering into the conclusion of which
Only a moderate dose of gin and tonic
Can comfortably navigate.

* * * *
If time and given circumstance allow,
Live a life that you will look back, happily content.
The ultimate narcissism, if you will.

* * * *
Feet that were never meant
To walk in shoes or on cement,
Much less in a straight line.

* * * *
How wondrous the innocence
We each had for too brief a while
Before the world took root in our minds.
To discern that original, blissful state
Is a life goal worthy of aspiration.

* * * *
Sovereign prince
In the infinite universe
Of your temporal imagination.

* * * *
Every mind, its own sovereign tale.

* * * *
So many, so easily offended,
So much so that they wander existence
Looking to be insulted in every paltry way imaginable.
Let some other wretched fool take that road.
Ramparts of caution dissolve in those
Whose friendship wax eternal.

* * * *
All waves swell, all waves crest, all waves fall.
‘Tis the statistical certitude which predicts
Every creation’s inevitable conclusion.

* * * *
There are more senseless ways
To play out the innumerable insanities
Portioned out in this theater of consciousness.

* * * *
Even the most cherished notion
Must one day diminish and dissolve
As consciousness loses its grasp
On a dream that never really was.

* * * *
Only of nothing can any one be certain.
Even notorious death and taxes
Are of the quicksand
Born of time.

* * * *
Me, my Self, and I,
Whatever that is.

* * * *
Assumptions all.

* * * *
Faking it the best you can,
Just like everybody else.

* * * *
An intellectual reverie of the eternal flame.

* * * *
Less a snob than adamantly independent.

* * * *
Still seeking some mortal delusion, are we?

* * * *
The best-kept secrets are the ones never uttered.

* * * *
How much time and energy has been devoted
In the pointless endeavor to describe
That which is indescribable.

* * * *
Hmmm … let me see now … career choices …
Physician, lawyer, accountant, teacher, fireman, farmer
Social worker, policeman, psychologist, politician,
Despot, drug lord, mercenary, serial killer …

* * * *
Give it whatever name, whatever description you will,
The essential reality is prior to all sound, all light,
And in the infinite tranquility of its stillness,
Its mystery ever remains unknown.

* * * *
Those without the endless scheming
Of one individualized agenda or another,
Are generally much more receptive listeners.

* * * *
Do you see what I see?

* * * *
Life is not a safe haven,
No matter how huge
The pile of gold.

* * * *
Too little, too late, too bad.

* * * *
From the essential nature
Of all life forms great and small,
The song of godness sings.

* * * *
It matters far less how all this came to be
Than what you do with it in the everlasting now
Of your brief, mortal dream of existence.

* * * *
The reverie of consciousness in time
Engineers the sensory illusion of separation,
Whereas the timeless awareness of consciousness
Discerns the connectedness of all things.

* * * *
All states of mind are relative beyond measure.
Godness resides within the essence of every quantum.
Good and evil may play out in the consciousness of humankind,
But at the source of all things, they are of no consequence, whatsoever.

* * * *
Wander with intention, or wander nonchalant,
In the ever-streaming illusion of time,
Every moment is the same.

* * * *
Whether you see it or not,
I know I am you, and you are me,
And we, no matter the fate, are one together.

* * * *
Quantum fusion.

* * * *
How surreal this existence we call reality.

* * * *
Phases, it’s all about phases.

* * * *
How can any ever know
That which is prior to all knowing,
But through knowing they are the knowing.

* * * *
I see you, and you see me,
And we all witness the mystery,
Each in our own vain way, together.

* * * *
All relationships, all activities, all possessions,
Are but streaming, kaleidoscoping experiencings.

* * * *
A work for those minds askew enough in time
To obliquely approach that which can never be defined
But through a deep well of doubt, irony, intuition and detachment.

* * * *
From all the beginnings to all the endings,
The universe of any given witness is really nothing more
Than an imaginary collage of sensory perception,
No more yours than it is anyone else’s.

* * * *
All creatures great and small
In this garden world are, on the whole,
About as obsessed with your narcissistic existence,
As you are with theirs.

* * * *
Contentment, one breath at a time.

* * * *
Nature is not something
Without which any can exist.

* * * *
Breathe more, think less.

* * * *
Pretenders all.

* * * *
The many passions pave the road
Between purgatory and paradise.

* * * *
Genuine and complete indifference
Is generally only achievable
For short durations,
But for saints
And other charlatans.

* * * *
No one can teach you
Everything there is to know.
That’s why you created a universe
From which to cherry pick all the nonsense
That you’ve crammed in that head.

* * * *
Why accept any lie, any propaganda,
Over the simple, strait-forward, honest clarity
Of your own observation and insight?

* * * *
Even the highest-quality seed
Requires suitable soil, water and air,
And, perhaps, the guidance of an astute hand,
To realize its fullest potential.

* * * *
Happiness is really little more
Than the chemistry of a clearer,
More balanced state of mind.

* * * *
The machinations of consciousness
Push and pull all in myriad directions.

* * * *
Every breath,
Just a few moments nearer
To that final demise.

* * * *
Sleep and oxygen deprivation,
What a combo.

* * * *
A vision, a perspective, an insight,
Which few are capable of discerning,
Much less inclined to fully imbibe.

* * * *
What is an anti-christ,
An anti-buddha, an anti-anything,
But one who articulately casts aside all idolatry?

* * * *
History is written by whoever takes the time to write it down,
And even then, it only contains whatever vision
The writer is capable of discerning.

* * * *
One simple, full breath,
Interwoven with a pinch of awareness,
And, suddenly, you’re back in the streaming here and now,
The only home there has ever really been.

* * * *
The seeds of revenge want only for a few drops of water.

* * * *
What is paranoia, or any other mental disorder,
But imagination adrift in its own confabulation.

* * * *
As real as imagination allows.

* * * *
Pilfer away, you little thief, pilfer away.

* * * *
In the quest for that
Which is real and true,
Following is not an option.

* * * *
When did all your judgment take root?

* * * *
A river runs through it.

* * * *
What was existence like
Before you learned to pose?

* * * *
Genesis is still underway at any given point in time.
There is really no point resisting
Your small part
In the grand creation.

* * * *
Time for mystics to stand up and be counted,
To stand up to the innumerable insufferable tyrannies
Of so-called religions and other fabrications across the board.

* * * *
Humankind has twisted the natural world
Into an order that will never even begin to resume as it was.
Eden is already tacking a new direction.

* * * *
You think you are only a drop,
But, in reality, you are the ocean.

* * * *
Too many straws slurping
From an almost empty cup.

* * * *
Who can know for sure
How any other life form
Perceives its universe?

* * * *
The inability to rein in our loins
Will surely be our undoing.

* * * *
The notion of something
Is often far different
Than its reality.

* * * *
Do nothing well.

* * * *
Ahh, the eccentric worlds
In which we layer our Selves.

* * * *
The relativity of any given perceptual set
Swims in the ocean of eternal absoluteness.

* * * *
As you would hold your hand still, still the mind,
Detach from the senses, and . . . ta-da!
There you are, the real thing.

* * * *
The eyes create the greatest sense of separation within and without.
None of the other senses enhance dualistic notion
In anywhere near the same way.
This grand theater
Would not be without them.

* * * *
Looking back, looking forward, doesn’t it all seem obvious?

* * * *
At least try be honest with your Self.

* * * *
Oopsie, did you really say that?

* * * *
Are you as much me as I Am?

* * * *
A bit of every label within you.

* * * *
Could you really just do nothing
For the rest of your existence?

* * * *
Partake what it pleases you to partake
In whatever way your fate allows.

* * * *
It is kind of like the same old, same old
Each and every eternal moment,
Except that everything’s
Always different and changing.

* * * *
Herein is how these eyes discern reality,
And you will make of it whatever you will.

* * * *
We are all really Soul mates,
Each of us playing out
Our own unique set of attributes,
None really greater or lesser than any other.


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