A collection of Poems on Emptiness, the substance of all life that is unimaginably full.
I re-found these in one of my journals I was flicking through :)
It is in stillness.
It is in silence.
It is in quiet.
It is in life.
It is in love.
It is in heart.
It is in peace.
It is also in sadness.
It is also in grief.
It is in pain, hatred, relief.
It is in everything, for it is everything.
And I am it, as are you.
Falling, Floating, swimming in stillness.
An embodiment of something profound and divine drops in to inhabit me.
Returning to emptiness, to Grace.
My heart glows and beams a love truer than any lover. More alive than anything living. Life itself.
I fall into the vast ocean and dissolve in its salty waters.
I dropped from the sky and you caught me, patiently awaiting my return.
I left. I left this home under a glass veil of illusion, so thin it shattered in the light tapping of my intent, yet under its spell I was blind to that that laid beneath all along. The truth not out there, but in here.
Letters to god, from god.
I’m home now.
Sweet, sweet nectar I drink.
The breath is the purest honey. Did you not know this?
Call me by my name and I will not turn,
For if it means I turn my back on God I will not.
On every exhale I die, yet every inhale something returns, and I live once more in a body of no weight.
Every inhale I receive this gift with grace. This gift of aliveness. Of Love pure and radiant. Empty and free. Unbound, I’m brimming, brimming with joy, bathing in peace.
And resting simultaneously in the stillness beneath.
This heart beats so loud, singing jovially with all the love in the world.
Yet the foundation is pure silence. Piercing. Unyielding.
And when I dance ecstatically, I am free. Stillness envelops the me, and I drink in the honey.
It is a fountain. It is an infinite well.
But it is neither of these things, for it is formless.
It rests within me. Always. Unmoving. While dancing all around this body in which I breathe.
The same source that funnels through the fountain, and pours water through the infinite well.
It is all.
Therefore, it is nothing.
One disguised by the faces of many.
Can you hear the silence?
As I gaze over the lightly swaying leaves, the invisible mist that rests between reveals itself to the eye.
It twinkles and chuckles jovially as it whispers;
The same breath breathes through you as it does these trees. The same waves ride you as those that ride the ocean.
I am of source and source is of you,
So tell me,
Tell me who you are again?
Not a who but a we, and not a we but a one.
I am the mist that dances between, only in denser form than the air I breath. One substance dancing with itself.
The colour starts dissolving from all that surrounds me.
Fading to white.
Tell me who you are again? It asked.
I am this light. I am and I am not.
The world is timeless.
And back again. Back something that cannot be named. It’s here, before the noise and the movement. The colour and the chaos.
Falling back, heart pouring wider open, expanding in all directions.
Unimaginable by the nature of imagination that is limited only to that which we have experienced before. That which we know. And that which we know is limited by the glasses we wear. Glasses that are blinding until we transcend.
Some are more blind than others, but we are all travelling towards true sight. Travelling with the purpose of seeing. Seeing truth clearly for what it is. Reality. For when seen, there is only one that’s true.
What extent of blind are you? How many shutters shade your vision?
How many shutters shade mine?
We are travellers, yet haven’t travelled an inch in these lives for there is a stillness beneath every movement that proceeds it all.
Before the breath, It’s here.
On its death, it’s here.
I am breathing, and I am breath.
I am that that’s been said before and through this vessel it’s said again, for that I am once more.
Falling, sinking, swimming.
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