a demon appears and we are it
perhaps a remnant of our past
like a dying snake, it writhes awhile
however this nonevent will not last
perhaps there is no form we were not
it matters little now as we reflect
having embodied light of Self within
our luminous aura is love flecked
a crisis befalls
as perceived by ego
the witness Self
observes the nonevent
retaining innate peace
and vibrant blissfulness
looking at life
as a shimmer in space
mirrored in body-mind
a subtle, almost imperceptible vibrational distraction
became an irritant causing consciousness contraction
taking a step back, we allowed the flame to die out
contemplating on why we had so allowed it to grout
as such, the seeming nonevent, though a flicker in time
redoubled our resolve to entwine with the divine sublime
16-May-2023
facing mood swings
in either us or others
we simply recognise
diktats of hormones
or instincts unrefined
displaying their fangs
witness nonchalant
graces the nonevent
infusing soul’s peace
in the seeming storm
by centring presence
deep within our Self
01-May-2023
witnessing without reacting
in as if a response arises
it is simply noticed
as a nonevent
a mere wave
appearing in mind
or felt within our body
both of which we are not
thus void-centric is our stance
an ever present stillness continuum
moment to moment in time thus
treading mindfully on earth
leaving no residue
17-April-2023
Our soul on heavenward ascent ~
Reckons death as a nonevent
09-September-2022
"History's more than a collection of facts...it's about people" by poet.
Black people were stolen,
trodden on and beaten.
Classified a cretin
like an ape in a zoo,
oft whipped and branded too,
some were even eaten.
They were worked until bent,
their heritage was mocked.
Runaway slaves were stalked;
fleeing chains and torment
death was a nonevent,
their every escape, blocked.
Their spirits unbroken,
black hopes have awoken.
We watched a movie called "Nonperson", so sad
About a nobody from Nowheresville, so dumb
The show was so excruciatingly bad
Afterward, we drove through the local homeless slum
Then we waded through the coldest stream, so wet
And lay upon the greenest grass, so nice
Then Mary said - we better not forget
so we ran to the store and bought a bag of ice
This was a weekend, a real nonevent
We had a splendid time, that's the honest truth
We felt sorry for the people living in their tents
So we handed out doughnuts to slake their sweet tooth
Somewhere in the world there is much pain and strife
Who knows what will happen next in this thing called life
We listened deeply to the sounds
of seed power of duality.
I was very restive
there was no time to review
the veracity of benevolence.
It was a flight of songs,
a passage through silence.
The event and nonevent,
became burning topics enslaving the angles of lips
and splitting the smiles.
If you wanted to feel the truth,
you must undergo splendid mutation,
to read the grains,
the sun, the rains.
Here comes the moon
sailing on dry bones
of our trivialities;
of our banalities,
shutting off our thoughts.
Multiples of our arts,
our performances,
had the plasma oozing
from our buried themes.
SATISH VERMA
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