My heart enfolded the hued horizon of dulcet dawn,
the yearning brush soaked the sunburst colors,
painted a Monet garden for you blooming with my love,
unfurled the facsimile of your floral face, adroitly adorned.
The oasis of my mind dried in the desert of desolation
as you disappeared with the draft
of the squally summer winds of discontent
with the dregs of divested desire, disowned.
The river of longing in the abandoned valley got lost,
the fervent flowers you gave me withered in the vase,
folded your memory within my reshaped perception.
You’re gone, but an empty chair holds your shape, a reminder.
You are now present as a design of my consciousness
that silhouettes your image on the canvas of my emotion,
becoming an impression in my memory of longing,
figuring you in absence with the fabric of remembrance.
Your absence is not a void of quiet nothingness;
it is your shining presence I sense under the starry sky.
As the stardusts of the blue night contour you for me,
your fancied touch I feel in the ripple of your silent absence.
Ere Dawn resumed her immemorial trust,
And vested earth with its hereditary fire,
A quiet ordinance, older far than light,
Passed through creation's unrecorded choir.
No seraph stirred.
No sceptre changed its hand.
Only possession loosed its last command.
The cedar kept its patriarchal shade;
The river held its testament to sea;
The stars maintained their sacerdotal watch,
Yet none rehearsed the grammar of the free.
Each thing fulfilled
Its undisputed part,
Without one covenant of "mine" at heart.
Then at the vesper table, long made holy
By homely fidelities no years could sever,
She brake the loaf, prepared the waiting bowl,
And reached to serve her absent love as ever.
Her hand grew still—
For love, at length made whole,
Could not distinguish giver from the bowl.
Then Light, divested of all need to shine,
Found every soul had always been its own.
“Forever divested of all and united to the Self, the enlightened one is the All, free and devoid of truth. Thus, how can there be here life and death, and how can there be any accomplishment through meditation or lack of meditation?”
“All this is magic, like a mirage in the desert. Only the absolute Self, of indivisible and impenetrable form, exist”
Are dreams real if we dream every night,
so whether we bowl or whether we bat,
if heart be tranquil and we have clear sight,
how does it matter what pranks we are at?
Come hither ego, we’ll give you a pat
for your antics but know we are free,
unshackled from mind’s tree, dancing carefree.
“Pure, vast and homogeneous like the sky, the Self is the same in all and devoid of all. It is the homogeneous Being divested of essence, nonessence, and change. Why dost thou, who art the identity in all, grieve in thy heart?”
We as the Self dwell beyond space and time,
being God or consciousness absolute,
so there are no peaks left for us to climb,
in the world of forms where egos reboot.
Reworded we may say there’s no one here,
meaning separate selves do not exist,
so let us discard all objects held dear,
reclaiming innate light as a bliss mist.
Oh deluded one, we are breathed by God
and ego’s but an earth life interface,
which drops off on its own leaving us awed,
as steps towards our true home we retrace.
Ascending in time on an upward arc,
such is the truth discovered, plain and stark.
The sparkling dawn serenely veneers
my heart’s horizon with halcyon hues,
spreads the sunburst tinge of timeless charm,
paints a golden garden on my heart’s canvas,
blooming with the lilac luster of my love,
unfurls the facsimile of your floral face.
As the pristine patina of the radiant roses
flushes your cherubic cheeks resplendent,
glittering with seraphic grandeur of shining pearls,
rapture wraps the mesmeric meadow of my mind.
As your cadenced heart pulsates within mine,
in the ether of encompassing euphoria I float.
In the vivacious valley of my verdant heart,
configured by the contours of your charm,
as I carve a conduit of earnest yearning to reach you,
fervent cloud floats away with my captivated craving,
melts in an endless torrent of expired emotion,
you disappear with the waning waves of desire.
Wandering destined in the desiccated wasteland
with the conciliated memory of divested longing,
my teardrops deviate from melancholic course to dry,
silhouetting the leitmotif of our past I need to forget.
When we let our path diverge at love’s blind end,
time would reveal for us the truth it is for the best.
“One should successively take recourse to the objects of concentration, as mentioned by the yogis, in accordance with their subtlety, invisibility, and attributelessness. When through constant practice one's concentration becomes objectless, then, being divested of merits and demerits, one attains the state of complete dissolution in the Absolute through the dissolution of the object of concentration, but not before then.”
All that’s manifest, is but a projection
of thought, borne by our heart’s befuddled desire
and as such the world deserves our rejection,
vaporising ego in the cosmic fire,
whence poised in the void, our presence unalloyed,
is no more by animal cravings decoyed,
paving way for space and time to disappear,
whereupon truth of existence becomes clear.
.
no
not i
she
'tiz hern
remind'n i
edvard
uv
taut
lock'd 'round
my
waking me whilst
i
dead sleep
smother'd
i
sodden'd with
divested pink sheath
mine mawz
excluded
yet their lipsss
raw
she 'gain
wink'd
I wish to love you with a primordial intensity,
An ancestral cry born from the chaos of the soul,
Embracing you with a wild and pure force,
Not with words that dissipate in the wind of forgetfulness,
But with raw cries from the hidden corners of my being,
A love that flows like melted, hot honey,
An ecstasy that consumes me to the very last fragment,
Leaving me stripped of all my old masks,
Divested of old identities and reborn anew,
Carried on the wings of a passion without limits,
Just as the waves secretly embrace the shore,
My love envelops you like an ancient song,
Resonating beyond time and space,
In a symphony of deep and pure silence,
Leaving me bare and reborn in emotions.
(Writing prompt : Wisdom is not enough to calm your fears)
Dark clouds of insecurity surge with menacing storm severe,
the distressed mind is sucked into the whirlpool of fear,
and swirls helpless within the vortex of noxious peril of gale,
gets divested of the feeling that the fright could be notional.
In times of disaster the journey’s end seems to be the plight,
as the light at the end of the dark tunnel doesn’t appear in sight.
The frightened senses feel the air of hazard in the unknown,
where the debris of hope piles up in the domain of fear outgrown.
Beneath the surface of the illusory mortal perception unclear,
the wise mind tries to build the sagacious images of fear
with the contours of reasoning that the astute insight affirms,
knowing the danger and realizing the risk in real terms.
Prudence may enhance fear, exposing the qualms deep,
but it tenders the skill to rationally control the panic state’s creep.
Wisdom doesn’t allay fear, an artifact of emotion innate,
but provides the acuity of acumen to face it with strength sedate.
I have never been arrested,
abused, discarded, neglected.
All because someone protested,
it’s my color they detested.
I have always been protected,
accepted, respected, vested.
Civil rights never molested,
my freedom never contested.
No one has ever suggested,
because I’m black I’m now suspected.
To be so badly infected,
that it cannot be corrected.
Let this message be digested,
if we want this life perfected.
We must all become connected,
to a world that’s not divested.
What worth am I
in all this madness
what worth are you
in the depths
of all this sadness
there,
see the flight path
to elevation
inside the feels;
inside the fields
of darkness
spring wells of
orbs popping light
the half-stride
of trying phantoms
planting seeds,
half-baked poetry
running
through the veins
the golden fields
of darkness
minutiae sleeping
with Morpheus
under the velvet blankets
of Elysium
terra firma robes
overly well worn
divested now
in waking
kissing the farewell
to be received blessed,
annointed in the essence
of the uncommon
there,
the busy minded,
the unnaturally gifted -
The Poets ...
call you,
see -
the flight path
to elevation
inside the outside inside -
or, called back outside,
there you remain,
forever fixated
on cracking the inside
the hoax planted
in a dybbuk box
unfounded
unworthy demon
sunken
treasure
buried forever
grounded
hear them all, see,
inside the common feels,
the uncommon Poets
call you
see,
the flight path
to elevation
reaching
inside the outside inside
Candide Diderot. ‘24
crosses.
Like an alien who has been thrown out of space
all tentacles and feels I don't belong here anymore
Life has gone through a transmutation of disgrace
and I am afraid of what is in store
Masked bandits everywhere I cannot trust the air
those fear vibes are like a metallic taste in my mouth
the news is one sided, its all about I talk you stare
contesting all I hear I'd love to fly south
where the sun doesn't discriminate nor hate
and the virus is divested, from all I consecrate.
I Am Finally Nothing,
And I like that just Fine.
I've Divested All.
It's took Quite a While.
Back in the Sunshine,
With Freedom of Mind.
I am Finally Nothing,
I Will Reside, A Long Time.
H.Elles
Total Rogue.
Divested from his state of grace
Witness the grieving intangible host
Fall into the dark human pit
One of their own
I wonder if there are Elders
wise
or more perennially surprised
who, looking back at their youth,
regret all their erotic time
invested in having peak
experiential sex,
And wish they had, instead,
done something, most anything,
more left brain dominant,
more theoretically
politically correct,
more economically prominent.
I so hope not.
Better off, I feel sure,
invested in abundant splatters of messy,
sometimes musical, health
Than overly divested
away from EarthTribe's gloriously peaking race
carried away by abstemious matters
of more disciplined pace
for securing capital infested wealth.
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