Prior to intent, in the unmanifest,
where creative will of God reverberates,
in us as the Monad, in peace and at rest,
the seed of desire in our heart then gyrates,
bringing about creation at God’s behest,
enacting its role till the desire abates,
whence heart quiescent it returns to the source,
in time dissolved stillness without use of force.
Ego indulgence is a brainchild of mind,
which labours within the matrix of space-time,
so to be free, head and heart must be aligned,
whence all that is then left, is God’s bliss beat chime,
melding with which, ego cravings are declined,
that all nodes tango dancing, conjure a rhyme,
enabling us then to reclaim Monad’s light,
which mirrors God’s heartbeat, throbbing with delight.
Our
resolve
to ascend
as we applaud,
let us not forget
that prior to intent,
which fixated our focus,
we had no sense of direction,
as we floated rudderless at sea,
alive and yet in a comatose state.
It is God’s will that drives higher actions
gentle love and light sans use of force,
so though He does dwell in our heart,
our free will must choose to pair,
with bliss divine sublime,
whence doing nothing,
blessings in-pour
and our path
becomes
clear.
Is not creative impulse fed by need,
to give shape and meaning to a lost mist,
seeking solace for our heart that does bleed,
yearning to be by rhythm of bliss beats kissed?
Spontaneity is but a buzz word,
for is it not preceded by intent,
born of the unstruck sound by our soul heard,
to which childlike innocence grants consent?
We rest thought to transcend limitation,
yet in this realm it is the preferred tool,
to translate in symbols, each sensation,
refrains replaying on memory’s spool.
Renewal continual ebbs and flows ~
Thus in the pregnant pause, light of soul grows
Years back
Past track
Direction when I was loss
A Grand Mother praying having an influential force
Prayed together
Taught me how to pray and what to pray for
A Grand Mother who showed me the way to salvation
Educated me in biblical words
It became my one day understanding after while
When I thought death would consume me
A Grand Mother became a guiding light
As I write, tears fall
Thank You Grand Ma for rescuing me being my call
I miss you so
You were like no other
A Mother to many
Sweet and Gentle
Comforter beyond.
Before creative impulse arises,
poised in time stretched peace of stillness sedate,
tidings carried by God’s will apprises
our presence to embrace its destined fate.
Living in the now, we simply allow,
the rising and subsiding of life’s tides,
trusting divine magnetism to endow
our form with bliss as in the void it glides.
Knowing all is one vaporises will,
that flowing with ease like the wafting breeze,
sipping soma nectar to our heart’s fill,
no demons remain for us to appease.
Having left erst fears and desires behind,
with ego exhumed, no fetters now bind.
DAWN'S FIRST LIGHT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
silence at daybreak.
sacred encounter with the Divine,
a conference of heart and soul.
beyond form, beyond language
heart beats, an echo,
a pulse vibrating through the silence.
wordless intent,
unvoiced
yet profoundly clear~
a stirring,
a flicker of grace
captures the dawn.
my soul meets God's pulse
I am led
I am unbound.
soul ascends
Poem written for Prior to Intent Poetry Content, Unseeking Seeker, sponsor, July 30, 2025
From darkened forms of little thought
a fog of unknown dreams
desire a feeling
A fleeting thought begins to focus
a dream, a plan, a scheme unfolds
Did the subconscious create intent
Or did past knowledge weave a dream
Did experience create intent
Or did the mind's unknowing dream explode
Was a warm glowing field.
I remembered it by scent.
Holographic thoughts formed
Like liquid beneath me, and I drifted
Through a blizzard of desires,
Impulses, and intuitions.
I was a knave, naive every time.
I sat there and got dizzy over
Ways to make spinach
So my kids would one day eat it.
her presence at first sight
an illumination
something I didn’t understand
she stirred imagination
a current ran through my body
and whatever stirred
was beyond comprehension
an angel, perhaps
I watched
as she checked into my life
and disappeared without a word
but she lingered in my mind
a constant stirring
until the next time
when I said hello
hovering in limbo
ideas strewn about
lacking sense or reason
images suspended in mid air
notions and impressions
floating and colliding
vague feelings in the raw
idly drifting meet their match
simmering a stance
before long ...
thoughts are forming notions
interpreting and framing
and a plan's laid out for action
AP: 3rd place 2025
Before thought–the heart: a struck bell's hum,
in the chest's dark chapel. No word. Only thrum
that echoes the void where meaningwill climb.
Is this the soul's raw conference? A draft.
of prayer–unwritten–lifting like a raft
on some deep tide. Not speech. Not yet. But chime
of nerve and grace. Mind fumbles, blind, to trace
this pulse–intent–before it wears time's face.
The vibration: God's fingerprint, half-dreamed,
still tuning the harp of the unsung.
Pen prepares its blood with quiet intent,
Flowing with words that embrace no cliche;
Its spirit starts to pump the heart's content,
Beginning with inner insights to say.
The ink's voice shouts with neither sound nor noise,
Creating calmness inside the bold mind;
The soul's silent scream still seems its best choice,
For the right meanings hiding there to find.
Shrouded images sprout in clarity,
Springing with fragrant flowers of wisdom;
Brightly bringing beauty to pure poetry,
As the author asserts his true kingdom.
Golden goal greatly gains its priceless prize,
As wonder wakes up the sweet sleeping eyes.
Due depart and so, desire
The rose does not befit the choir
I live in hell, because I was given a choice,
who ever on earth had the sweetest voice -
Maddy Prior, Sandy Denny, or Jacqui McShee?
The demons rejoice
as in hell, I am bound to forever dangle
deciding,
Steeleye Span, Fairport Convention or Pentangle?
The ceiling sparkled;
I saw the big dipper, then the little one.
The painters needed a bigger tip for their creative execution.
Without a warning to prepare, a requiem played.
The symphony corned all aspects of a so-called classic; muffled screams, vulgar tongues and your tears –
Silence doesn’t come fast and
I begged for forgiveness and solidarity whilst connecting the dots of Orion.
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