An open call on life itself, rafters dusted lightly by spirit's breath thrum with operatic passion as voices ring unto the heavens, lifting souls past yearning, past the duality of daily life, the joy and the pain combined, existing, second by second betwixt heaven and hell.
The still perfection of a winter's pond silent, ice blessing the sky, warm and wet, promising the water beneath a quick view of the heavens before hell freezes over yet again, in preparation for the inevitable coming of spring.
Barren brown twigs burst brightly, orange, yellow, green, photosynthetic promises of life deny the illusion of death, fulfilling the blessing of cyclic eternity, as above, so below.
Breath billows, moving air in visible currents outwards, shaping prana and bellowing kundalini as auric colors brighten in anticipation of the diurnal journey of brother sun and sister moon, the body's deep programming churning endlessly, its mechanisms, machinations, melancholy; depressed, opressed by the relentless approach of dotage, damning youth to obscurity, promising wisdom, laughing at misguided lives, lived in search of happiness that never existed as such, simply because beneath the surface, far below the icy froth capping the dark well of intentionality and karmic expectation, only probability exists, the endless fashioning of cause and effect, efervescing endlessly, forming unions with the unbound in anticipation of manifestation.
And we live quietly, ignorantly unaware that each moment is a chance to burst forth from our shells, to spontaneously combust as each cell within our bodies unites in perfect harmony in opposition to control, concern and concomitant commonalities that curse days of toil and obscurity with mundane existence, passing unremarked upon into the dustbin of small, meaningless moments that fill lotus-like leaves of the soul's incarnate word, spoken before creation become.
Simply magnificent, life is. Subtle, sublime, serene.
A profound and very touching write. Mark, you know you are unique and your words are in a class by themselves, for which I give thanks that you share them with us.
I have decided to go to the eleven thirty mass, Mark - I just can't seem to be able to leave me seat. Lol.
Splendid! How simply magnificent, this poem is! You've woven a brilliant tapestry of metaphysical language and philosophical insight! Bravo, Mark! Bravo!
A mighty, uplifting and empowering write, Mark. Excellent and exciting as it draws the powers from without and pulls them within. Life is, indeed, magnificent!
Take care,
Sherry
Reviewed by Vesna Perkovic (Reader)
Reviewed on February 3, 2006
Simply magnificent, life is.
Subtle, sublime, serene.
it is indeed..I only wish I would finally accept that as truth.
You always leave me in awe Mark! I love the aliteration!
The finale is explosive, bursting with energy! Very
motivating, this could make a sloth want to run;-)!
In today’s secular environment the two worlds of science and spirituality are alien worlds, distinguished primarily by a deep-seated antagonism in which the principles of spirituality and the pragmatism of modern science exist face to face in a peren
A story with original photography, digital art, and illustration, about Son of Waves, 12 Dolphins to save the planet, David The Visionary on the beach in Tel Aviv, a digital messiah, and an internet of Love. Free PDF download.
I have decided to go to the eleven thirty mass, Mark - I just can't seem to be able to leave me seat. Lol.
God bless,
Sandie.
Reindeer
Love Tinka
Take care,
Sherry
Subtle, sublime, serene.
it is indeed..I only wish I would finally accept that as truth.
saved this one ..ty Mark!
Vesna:)
PS I truly needed to read this today..
The finale is explosive, bursting with energy! Very
motivating, this could make a sloth want to run;-)!
Eileen^
I feel infantile in your/my reality, which, I guess, could support a mathematical formula of life-sight I can almost see...
Strangely enough, Mark, the fifth verse I could not finish, at firstm it hurt too much. All else in substance was powerfully exant and hopeful.
Yours,
Erin
The alliteration in this flows with the beat of my shaman drum, causing my pulse to race and physical boundries to fade away...