My Universe Revolves Insight Hiding

My universe revolves Relaxation – Meditation - Reflection I have thought- in the throes of perception, as I lay in the soothing arms of meditation – travelling through spaces of, and in reflection as I drift in and out, submerged in the waters of relaxation, Mother Natures, life giving, crystal clear ooze of creation. Maybe it is not, as I have – in my mind’s eye – seen. Maybe it is not, as I have - in my heart – believed I have been. For this day has brought to me, another view, a new scene. One in which the above is more like a liquid tomb where I lay myself – for hours – in the gloom of my very dark, steaming room. In this watery grave – a black hole cave -, Where, in the darkness, I try and stave off all that hunts, all that light, made of the experiences - staid ?, - flashing through my mind before I silently slip into the blackness and find that I have been locked into a past that drowns the present – kills the future, in fact ! As the porcelain walls, embryonic fluid, grave become the moist pages of this man’s history, the sum of his biographical, autobiographical tale, none will dry, as their essence continues, and drips these experiences from my past, into the cup one sips from – in the present – that stagnates the lips, lips that speak not of colouring the water one spits out to nourish life, nourish the future where lies hope and dreams – that within me just dies an inglorious, agonizing, frivolous death, taking in one more, hopeful breath before the end, before them and I are laid to rest never knowing, if past or failed life’s test. Is this a prelude to killing hopes and dreams ?. of all I have done, of all I do, what never comes it seems. Insight With eyes, one sees, what it is that one perceives, yet, does one truly perceive ?, that which he thinks he sees as being a perception seen through another’s eyes, and that it all might be nothing more than lies perpetrated upon man to keep all in disguise, – our heritage, life upon this planet – brought from the skies Hopi, First Nations, just one of many peoples, spoke of the Sky People ? Hiding I see your constant, verbal rambling as a means to avoid, a means of scrambling. I believe them to be nothing more than a skilled masonry protector who is constantly building walls, brick after brick, protecting yourself from any falls. Falls from the past that are enfolded by the present. You are the spade that digs, – that is meant to ever widen, ever deepen that moat that will keep out all that did smote - to keep out the future, this chasm you built to keep you safe, keep out possibilities, life to stilt. B. J. “A ” 2 October 27th 2002