Night’s insight ends
and so does time
as instinctively I learn
to see --
at the core of infinity
rested underneath my tree
I wake up to redefine
my path on a parchment of living
skin scrubbed and scoured
for rewriting --
limitless earth stretching
and tongues of infinite desire
an open landscape of sand
that flows forever
from a broken hourglass --
above the blanket of my hair
shadows have now disappeared:
there is no ghost
no wandering puppet
the wooden stage
now burnt to ashes --
in the middle of infinity
faraway so near
the smallest island
is a source of endless inspiration --
in the blackest sea
dark ocean waves
fill an ink pen
concentration all around
painted surfaces have faded
depth absorbs all colors
and all sounds combine
into the whiteness of silence
that comes alive in me --
meaning that was somewhere lost
is to be found there
meaning that was hard to find
as it was never hidden.
Wow! What a subject to ponder -- "the core of infinity." "Meaning that was hard to find as it was never hidden" --never a truer statement has been made! I think I need to go back and read this again several times and glean more from the beautiful imagery. Three is the number for God, and He certainly is Infinite.
After reading this part, the first two poems feel like vital journeys to get here. This one feels like clear vision and a decided goal. Excellent work.
Sheila
love the form you have chosen for this stream of consciousness, Axilea. The short lines are so visual and the breadth of your mind's travels makes me think of the borderless, bleeding (in the sense of no margins) of a surreal Dali canvas. As Charlie suggests, this is like spiritual breathing, like driven snow that is fresh with every new fall... and the word "palimpsest" came to my mind (which I love as being so robust and plummy in the mouth!) - the re-painting over a blanked-out older canvas where sometimes strokes of the original work still show through:
painted surfaces have faded
depth absorbs all colors
and all sounds combine
into the whiteness of silence
that comes alive in me --
meaning that was somewhere lost
is to be found there
meaning that was hard to find
as it was never hidden.
A captivating poem worthy of much more than a single reading. Thank you for sharing your perspectives, Axilea; such substance for reflection. Love and best wishes,
Great Dimension series! This one progresses to beyond rudimentary. This indulges our interest in the exactness of what is visible on the top surface of our soul, and that it is indeed inspiring, Axilea, when we revive our alive...it's like those trick pens that have that magic disappearing ink, but we know it isn't hidden in the vapor trail...I'm convinced this could be your narrator's last planetary camp before descending to Earth...the core of infinity says it so...
This book is about a radical transformational Way of Insight, Awakening and Realization to transcendent Self of Nondual Consciousness. If your're interested in transcendental Enlightenment, in Awakening to Nondual Self of Wisdom and Compassion, then
This book chronicles an infinite allegoric odyssey of Absolute Awakening in which a learned man, a mute man, and a recluse woman are the principal players. The mute and the recluse are the learned one's Teachers and Guides on his journey of Enlighten
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Sheila
That was a great poem!
rested underneath my tree
I wake up to redefine
my path on a parchment of living
skin scrubbed and scoured
for rewriting --
and the zenlike:
meaning that was somewhere lost
is to be found there
meaning that was hard to find
as it was never hidden.
Enjoyed. - David
painted surfaces have faded
depth absorbs all colors
and all sounds combine
into the whiteness of silence
that comes alive in me --
meaning that was somewhere lost
is to be found there
meaning that was hard to find
as it was never hidden.
Beautifully layered work. xx
88 keys,
in black or white
touched in an infinite number of sequences...
and yet this too is music
born of words, their sounds, meanings,
and something spiritually BREATHING.
--Charlie
hugs
fee
Ron
Regis
Love,
Sage