Who is flying in the bird?
Who is peeking through our eyes?
The clouds and our hearts
Carry this Unnamed Mystery
Together we travel blindly
Through uncertain paths and crazy mazes
Lost and blind we talk and think
Alone and empty we fall in the mud
The breeze brings a whisper
It is the Unammed who blows the wind,
Shines stars like lamps lit in a dark room,
And turns them off to sleep
Knowing the Unnamed before falling
Saves me, fills me, and I am found
Not by me or by another
Not for anything more than silence
No longer do I walk in the mud, in the crazy maze of certainties
But in the indifference of the cloud that makes me rain
To be mud, grass, flower, tree, bird, leaf
Breeze, land, mountains, sea, silence
Who are you reading these words?
Show yourself
2 comments:
I am consistently in awe of your blogspot. In so many ways, my cultural aptitude resonates incredibly with yours, as I have roved excitedly through such posts as "Express the Source" and discovered the piano work of Goldmund while rejuvenated, basking in the late great avatars of the world soul journey Alan Watts and Terrence McKenna, Bill Hicks and on, and discovered at least a couple more here, I am ever grateful for your gatherings and feel, there is a possibility, even while unconscious to each other and thus to ourselves, we are doing similar work.
Godspeed, You Black Emperor!
Some beautiful words there, thank you for sharing.
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