Be the fragrance of a rose
Though echo of love returns not
at times, do we yet hold steady, untying knots that makes heart taut, for each bout, lovingly ready? To be always in equipoise, though echo of love returns not, by shutting off ego borne noise, we’re not then in narrowness caught. Expectations make us fear fraught, so in mode embrace and release, though echo of love returns not, we’re free like the fresh morning breeze. Let’s define the art of living, living joyfully as we ought, each breath loving, freely giving, though echo of love returns not. Quatern |
Re-cognition
someone rocks the boat
creating a sway it may be disconcerting but it is also play willing to be surprised which also means shocked are we in mode celebratory with lower mind docked reflecting thus we become the moon, the stars, the sun we’re in a lucid dream in truth we all are one |
On this open page, we engage and gauge. :hug3:
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Metamorphosis
slow ascent uphill
step by step we enjoy smelling the roses soul’s ascent uphill magnetism rises what intensity can our form hold we have no questions about the bliss burn because in time we become the flame |
Esoteric truth
there’s a cavity in my head
which is connected to source bliss borne in toroidal heart enlivens the void using no force |
Green light
From root of spine till third eye,
a seamless energy band, holding thus firm our focus, signals we’re ready. Dodoitsu |
As of soul agreement
Forgive me dear heart,
for a moment, lost in trance, I saw not light of your soul. Our separation is but a part in the script we both chose to enact here. Sedoka |
Threadbare
The light by which everything else is known,
is what we seek, to become self-aware and so we sow seeds of love, all home grown, that the tree of life reveals truth threadbare. Love is a mist in which ego dissolves, paving way for consciousness to expand, whence we see how soul in our heart evolves and then God’s divine plan we understand. As heart lotus blossoms in body prism, Holy Spirit begins to pervade form and thus transcending teachings of each ism, we’re engulfed in a magnetic bliss storm. Questions cease when we become the answer, gliding with grace, like a cosmic dancer. Sonnet |
The secret
That the heart was free from desires was his claim
but if that be so, what caused his soul to sing songs ethereal, music that has no name and yet when emoted, seeks with love a fling, radiating magnetism heart cannot tame, vibrant, joyful, full of zest and zeal and zing? We asked him to reveal, source of his appeal, to which he whispered, “I do not think; I feel.” Ottava Rima |
Perfect brilliant stillness
How still is our stillness if thought forms arise,
each flicker having origins in ego, a flaming ember, which never ever dies, unless we’re empty and completely let go, which if be the case, befriending the vast void, we shine as light of Self, pure and unalloyed, whereupon the universe bestows a verse, conjured thus without any need to rehearse? Rispetto |
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