Long Transcendence Poems
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In the anchorage of the mundane mind,
detached from the principled roots of sanctity
by the dislodging drive of sequential desire,
untamed instincts shroud the senses.
As the needle of ethical compass breaks,
the vortex of immanent emotions drags the mind
into the fathomless inner depth of deriding abyss.
Beneath the sensual surface of mortal perception,
the mind transitorily shapes the innate images
on the fleeting screen of spreading awareness,
shifting beyond the limits in search of new sensitivity
within the quintessence of unique existence,
the construct of sublime elements of divinity.
In the realm of existential dualism,
with the dark and depraved attributes,
irreducibly distinct from the righteous potency,
human being breathes as God’s generous gift
the divine breath of the devout life,
the intrinsic source of creativity for love and altruism.
The enlivening inner window of enlightenment
lets inside the sacred sunshine of seminal virtue,
highlights the positivity of the persistent psyche,
enhances the defining strength of the spirit,
flowing with the fountain of generosity and empathy,
that finds the cathartic pathway of spirituality.
The spiritual journey is a trying translocation
from vice to virtue to the high stratum of consciousness,
achieved by the introspective dissolution of the boundaries
of the rigid thoughts through transcendence.
As the separation of outside-in and inside-out dissolves,
intrinsic virtue permeates the non-dual awareness.
When the immanent emotions bloom as radiant lotus,
the soul contained within the limits of acuity
finds freedom to merge with the transcendent consciousness
of divine oneness, and fusing with the supreme,
embellishes the sublimated life with heavenly adornment.
The absolute then assimilates the liberated atman.
In the land where Ganges and Yamuna embrace,
MahaKumbh Mela calls with celestial grace,
A dip in waters where the sacred currents blend,
Promises cleansing of sins and a soul's ascend.
Millions gather, faith guiding their quest,
Seeking salvation and eternal rest,
Yet, amidst the crowd and holy cheer,
I seek a quieter path to draw near.
Through Zen’s stillness and Buddha's way,
Renouncing desires that lead astray,
Lust, greed, and worldly ties unfasten,
The soul's journey to Nirvana may hasten.
Or by walking the Samaritan's road,
Bearing love’s gentle, selfless load,
Serving the needy, tending the frail,
Seeing the Divine where pain prevails.
For Nirvana is not bound by place or rite,
It is the soul’s transcendence to eternal light,
Where suffering ends and desires cease,
Enlightenment dawns with infinite peace.
When I was a young girl I watched my sister die. It was in the winter,
she slipped on ice ending under the wheels of a truck. My mother
and I stood at the side of the street frozen. I will never forget the
screams of my mother. It echoes in my nightmares. After the accident
I was quiet, too quiet. I never looked at people keeping my eyes on
the ground, never smiled. Of course, my parents took me to a doctor
and were told I was grieving and to just be there to talk. But I did not
want to talk. I did not want to play with other kids preferring to play in
my backyard, or on the front porch where it was nice and safe . . .
fear became entrenched
everything filled me with dread ...
time is an eclipse
As I grew older I kept to myself at school, could spend the day at the
library or at the art gallery, reading and writing but not hanging with
other kids. Writing became important to me, in a journal I wrote my
deepest thoughts, and I wrote stories that in time would become poems.
I was a clinging vine to my family and did not venture far. Walking to
and from school terrified me and I knew it was rooted in my sister's death.
I was filled with panic when I crossed the street. Big trucks really scared
me even when I was in the car. Until, as a young woman I decided that
I needed to confront this fear, that I called fear of living . . .
I rose above fear
going beyond my deep angst . . .
writer transcended
_____________________
August 28, 2021
Poery/Haibun/Fear of Living
Copyright Protected, ID 08-1385-102-28
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Oremier contest, Fear Transcendence
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 08/30/2012
First Place
Might It Be--
by Odin Roark
Musical consciousness
surpassing even the bliss of silence
Touch that lifts
layered secrets from the
striations of marble
Salt upon the lips
swirling distant memories
of aquatic heritage
Colors that mix
mind's forever pigments
with imagined emotions
not yet born
yet ancient in nature's
sorrow and joy
Might it have been...love
That
which we know little of
which rises above earthly truth
to the darkness
that only light can know
Mr. Barber
To a secular believer
what is your Lamb of God
if not something
only transcendence can deliver
perhaps while listening to one's breath
or your harmonies of ethereal conscience
What might it be?
Transcendence
Vibrationless humming ~
of time stretched Samadhi;
pulseless and breathless state,
throbbing in blissfulness,
dancing at heaven’s gate.
Vibrationless humming ~
in bliss suffused silence,
unbroken awareness,
reflecting soul’s vibrance,
one with the That oneness.
Vibrationless humming ~
of divine magnetism,
bursting forth from within,
transmuting mind-body;
bliss bubbling on our skin.
Vibrationless humming ~
the void and we are one,
as witness consciousness
imbibes love’s elixir,
in childlike playfulness.
25-May-2022
Notes: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samadhi
In a corner of my room I seek sublime awareness,
I attempt to transcend my past, present and future;
Such a little place of tranquility where I find higher purpose,
Letting go of the now and finding myself in nature.
My meditation takes me deep into my inner power,
Transcendence and serene knowledge and abandon;
The vastness of self, interpretation of life, the creative writer,
I float in delight through landscapes before hidden.
I have found the infinite part of my unlimited being,
My third eye is activated and I am in a realm higher;
Letting go, discarding things of no purpose including feelings,
And in my meditation I am awake and not just a dreamer.
____________________
August 15, 2015
Rhyme
Submitted to the contest, Least Views, Casarah Nance
Third Place
Shadow black blood floods flow silently wailing in whirlpools
Volcanoes of endless enmity erupt with vengeance.
It's not humanness. Here, the mores of 'might is right' rules
Against routing quagmires, lotus buds fight for transcendence.
We shake hands like friends while minds float on clouds of fraudulence.
Amidst rocking crowds in digital sounds, we feel alone.
Wearing torn costumes of cleaved conscience, we seek vigilance.
Weeds of weariness spring up, wherefrom seeds of smiles are sown.
Like weak rams, we follow the rushing crowds to hit someone.
Who do we want to hit? Why do we want to? No one knows.
We make weapons and enable our young ones fight for fun.
Roots of truth hidden, falsehood from friendship flawlessly flows.
Why is each one who toils not the owner of their wages?
Why don't we end all dead ends that prevent our pilgrimages?
Starry night sky above
--- starry night sky below ---
reflected in a restless sea:
twin nocturnal profiles face off,
touch nose to nose
--- share stars for eyes ---
the wind that meets the water.
Floating in darkness
the silvery moon rises -
intriguingly, inscrutably
--- dark side, light side
hidden from each other,
man in the moon ghastly.
Baleful lunar eyes hover,
looming mirrored,
awash in inky waves.
Glorious morning yawns.
Hidden somewhere in the firmament
she waits, and she waits some more,
leaning against the wings.
Beguilingly draped, she anticipates -
her next sweeping entrance.
...
All Creation
--- benign yet indifferent ---
gathers Her own,
draws them ever closer,
--- finely tuned, outrageously only approximate --- ,
the union of yin and yang.
Both tumble along as one,
--- celestial dice rolling ---
swept bobbing w/ the tide,
transcendence disguised,
transcendence revealed.
I lost my ability to think for myself
As I sat atop the Church of Santa Maria de Idris
Carved into the cliffside while I sat sewn into its ridges
I had spent the former sun’s passage wandering the City of Stones
The hours loosened themselves as I passed beneath canopies of trailing vines
Draped over blanched bricks steeped
In shades of beige-and-brown-and-orange-and-grey
Vestiges of the past worn
Down each wall, each path
Woodwinds whistle and beckon me from the distance
But my anticipation allows no acquittance
I remain doggedly beholden to
The eventual night that promised to keep me alone
I lie in the sky yet remain fastened to the earth
My back chiseled by the jagged rock I chose as my resting place
My head suspended beyond its edge
So that the stars sleep beneath me and the city
Yellowed by the languor of its dim-lit paths
Hangs in the balance of our sweet nothingness
Zig-zagging-every-which-way
Like an I Spy book brought suddenly to life
Can you spot the soul in a world you know possesses none?
I speak of this not with any great anguish
But with a peculiar sense of contentment
One that has itself become the source of my gravest grief
For its mere existence renders mine worthless
I strain to reach into the dimness of memory
I blacken my mind to conjure my darkest fears
I even invite you into my mind
Dressed in every shade of my maladjustment
But none can hold a candle to the sight that lies before me
Along with the sharp ache impressed on my back
For the first time, physicality exceeds my once-thought-bottomless-imagination
And my mind affords me no liberation
Though I have always sought after some chimerical escape
Only here do I realize that such elusion is but another passage through delusion
And not the good kind
The kind that leaves me feeling childish and naive
As though in leaving I had mistaken distance for transcendence
Believing myself to be rising above it all
When all along I had been looking at the whole world upside down
In the hidden realm, seeker of mysteries,
Where do you float, my boundless Origin?
Like a falling star, you bestowed upon me
A fragment of your essence, to give birth to me in depths...
But now, in the oppressive darkness of questions,
I wonder, was it out of love, punishment, or destiny?
I wander through the labyrinth of existence, lost in contemplation,
Feeling banished to the asylum of madness,
In the midst of an endless storm of events called life.
Here, where nothing finds respite,
And everything will be forgotten in the depths of oblivion.
Here, where appearances are but shadows of reality,
And reality hides its mystical truth.
In this place, where the beauty of illusion turns into truth,
And the cult of hope becomes imperative,
Conquering pain, masking suffering,
And quenching the burning thirst of the heart.
You, elusive being,
Master of my singular truth, I beseech thee,
Let your certainty enclose me in its cage.
With joy, I shall serve my sentence,
In rhythm with the boundaries of transcendence.
For what kind of freedom would it be,
Bound by the shadows of evil?
Blessed be your justice,
And above all, your mystical Grace.