Looking for meaning is a hindrance in meditation.
It prevents the 'invisible' world of visions from coming and being enjoyed.
When I turn off introspection, the Presence of "Be and it is" or "I am that I am" fills the void.
The be-ing spirit takes very little time in it to fully be fortified by it.
Emmersing further in it is like entering a forest on a dark night without a flashlight.
It starts to form my body into the orb of patience.
Patience then conjures that meaning is next, but it must be overlooked, or 10 days of struggle are due.

O naked breast, what do you have with me?
You're a picture taken from another camera see.
Though your smooth skin entices.
Though your areolas are a museum of love.
Though your hair is long,
Though your eyes are wide.
Though your vaginal lips hide a salty sea.
Though I mistake my sweaty smell for thee.
You cannot have me.
When will my lover stop showing me her image?
I just want to explore reality.
Why reality so sensual?
Why not matter-of-factual?
Why not in layers of languages unknown?
Instead, so macrocosmically.
Why so lovely?

Beyond meaning, and the Eternal Beauty breathes through me.
The difference between those who have found no meaning or care for no meaning, and I who go beyond meaning isn't important.
But is apparent in their manifest mindfulness.

How can an understanding raised and developed with words cognize what is beyond words?
How can attention directed from an infantile stage be made aware "beyond direction"?
As the very word 'beyond' gives meaning and direction.

Thought will ever meander in these webs if it is not given a sound as a vehicle to harmoniously dive beyond these intricacies.
Whoever gives you this sound will be in charge of your dive.
My sound is thus spontaneous.
Like scatting with soothing syllables.
A silent mind is defective because thoughts form, which is fine if you want to know your thoughts.
But since thoughts continue to arise, the mind naturally wishes to siphon them off to return to silence.
The siphoning itself creates a mental frequency.
...
"Selling" sounds to think is like moving thought from the ground to flying into outer space.

Any way to teach meditation is obsolete when the mind changes.
The teachings are relative though they speak of spiritual matters.
It is every person's unique journey, meditation is.
Thus, I come back to "just observe".

Oh eye, of a day gone by in ease
How I used to radiate light, now you are a messenger of gray.
You have a face of winter winds.
You never stay too long in the lighted center.
Don't you remember the dreams we've had?
In the world beyond the dust?
No, light does not come often from the lawful self, but is rather from knowledge or wisdom met with a hundred mercies.
My spirit is too diverse in colors to be seen as one light.
My creation does not lie in the fixation of a white or golden light, rather its creativity is seen in how I design.
My beauty is more than a point, it is as a flower held in front of a point.  Only by its being there does the point recognize the flower's value.
How I wish to be blessed with the point that my flower can hold it.
Hardly a petal is accepted, what an aged face I've become.
My own inner spirit must combine with my body to make beauty, which then must pass through my own acceptance - how hard it is.
Something's always afoul.
I should give up and say there's no such thing as beauty in an eye.
I am to be the saddest face if I behold your seas of bliss repeatedly.
A true smile comes from the Earth beneath me.
With enough shaking, it turns my heart to joy.
But it doesn't show on my skin.
There is no beauty in men.

O to be prejudice between the visible
and invisible Baha'u'llah.
When moving out of nature becomes moving by the Will.
Therefore, divinity becomes a shuffling of
the attention away from all things, words, senses,
forms, and starts to receive instructions from
the personages that visit me.
She stared at me as if I was the sole
expression of her day,
tossed the blouse covering her beauty.
Her waist was perfect and made
mine perfect while sitting.
She caught sight of Baha'u'llah,
and her spirit dispersed.
Angels of Prophets parted ways,
by means of Names.
He unfolds a general saying
to tell me of His hidden power.
That woman, Rey, of the Force
looks at me with tears in her eyes.
Baha'u'llah always leaves me
to have no sign or description
of the divine.
He came and left, and though seen and felt, left no remaining
evidence
of His
Self.

I am the power of literacy,
The power of the written word,
The power of the tongue.
I am not the color of my skin, but the content of my mind.

I prefer silence to news.
I prefer to vote for the party of lesser evil than write-ins.
I prefer religion to politics.
I prefer oneness to distinction.
I prefer coffee to alcohol.
I prefer cigarettes to refer.
I prefer nutmeg to LSD.
If I could give all these up except one, I would prefer oneness.

Understanding is based on holding a malleable space in the mind.
2. Math allows a measure or order.
3. Math is like learning a foreign language - exposure!
4. There is a time to say "I can't" and a time to say "I can".
5. Personal hard work must be activated.
6. There will be a time time to invent, a time to watch, a time to solve problems, and a time to take notes - let them come out of desire.
7. Assumptions slowly transform into comprehension, forgetfulness slowly turns into memory.
8. Math is traveling through all the illusions to come into reality.
9. I will always make markers for my steps.
10. I will always say something about the motions.
11. I will always say something about my capacity.
12. I will always wish to discern qualities.
13. There will always be existential questions.
14. No one will be able to look beyond a good night's sleep, nor be able to see tomorrow.
15. "He" will become the Voice in which you hear math.

P.S. It is the simple math that is hardest to calculate, and not knowing how to solve a problem is the hardest math.

"How do I not get bored doing meditation?"
The 22 year-old said with a moan.
How do you feel when a boyfriend holds you close?
Go to that place.
How do you feel when your mom holds you tenderly?
Go to that place.
How did you feel when your dad finally came home from work?
Go to that place.
Be in the place that is dear, that no one can replace, the place that is sacred.

Scattering amplitudes and galactic momentum horizons prove that observation needs a proof, so what does trying to make up on observation do?
It is like trying to peer in another universe.
This is what consumed me trying to come up with theories in physics.
Yet it is still done today, although the theorists have quite selective imaginations.
Even in peer reviewed papers, any theory without evidence is treated just as a child's imagination.

The graviton is so allusive.
We observe that it must exist due to larger observations, yet we don't have the measuring device to see it scatter.
Even if we could, it may create what would keep it shrouded.
I conclude that until I observe something big, I will not try to observe its qualities, and if I notice something small, I'll remind myself that it came from something big.

Grassmannian scattering amplitudes.
Galaxies with momentum horizons.
Galaxies moving in different directions at different speeds.

Still haven't found the graviton.
Colliders.
Huge interferometers.

Any work here seems like a lot of teamwork in companies.
I'm a drop in the bucket, whose feeling is my enemy if I am to manage complexity.

So one part of me says "just do it, do the problems I have prepared to do".
But I feel I'm missing a level of management of the field, like I'm not getting the big picture.
It is said: from point to expanse to point and back again.
Am I looking for a shortcut?
Learning purifies, it reveals what is now impossible to see.

A lack of study?
I know all the fundamental theories of physics and elementary calculations.
I know of all the branches of math and where they lead.
All of my notes of formulas are unused.
It's good that I studied electronics to know what focusing on math and physics gets me after graduation.
What really stays with me is what electronics isn't, but also how basic it is.
This is what I now expect for this endeavor.
The less help I get in it, the longer it takes.
Muhammad, pbuh, said get half of your knowledge from others and half from yourself.
But it is hard to tell what is from me.
Is my work the only thing: He meaning only let help solve half my problems?

There is:
1. What I need to work on
2. What I want to work on
3. Gain a degree of simplicity
4. Understanding what work is not

Studies show that novices often pay attention to different elements in a problem than experts.
I gain more from being asked a question that is impossible to answer than solving a question for computation's sake.
How do I know why a plane tangent to a sphere can only intersect at one point?
I knew that before I did the problem, but I wasn't aware I was trying to disprove that!
Like trying to make black pigment out of only yellow and blue.
No, that's too simple.
It is like nothing I ever experienced!
I was unaware of the use of the elements.
It is one thing to read a theory, to copy an equation, but to go through problems makes me experience the elements in ways I never knew.
To know limitations I was blind to because I had never tried to connect them before.
That is why experts can zero in on a problem so fast, and why novices are snagged on basics.

This excursion into the expanse has ended with a knowledge of the love of math problems.

Perplexity is hidden in head space.
Perplexity is hidden in grace.
Perplexity is hidden in these affirmations.
Perplexity is blinded to worry and manifests fear.
Fear begets courage.
And perplexity hides in that too.
History hides a lot of confusion.
Perplexity is blinded by knowledge.
Perplexity is still hidden in college.
And knowledge is a trained phenomenon.
But training has no skill set to One without a question:
Balking at knowledge because the training does not produce it.
It produces a branch of knowledge that is always incomplete.
Thus, a degree is only a measure of completeness.
The rising of the completeness puts out the fire.
A stammering tongue has no place here.
Let me say something while you check your notes
Passive listener, scratch the back of your head because this wasn't prepared for.
Nice is true to my style.
Conditioned by the miles I've walked.
This is not for your entertainment.
This is about word placement.
Uncovering the person that I am.

Wisdom has always ruled the cosmos.
No sword is sharper than wisdom.
Good intentions cannot simply come forward,
Or progress sideways,
But must be placed with correct x,y, & z coordinates.
Not only that, but it must be met with a receptive person
for wisdom's fruit is sincerity, kindness, and tact.
What comes forward otherwise is met by fools.
All undertakings depend not on "wise-dumb" but wisdom.
How many a silence left a seed unnourished and how much has speaking killed the seed.
How many an act has made me a fool.
How many an act has made me a child of God.
How few an act has made me seem wise beyond my years.

"I can't focus on what you told me to."
You don't need to focus to meditate.
Simply hold your head up and observe the barrage and motions of feelings and thoughts.
Now you are sitting
This is good.
"I forget to observe and go off on a thought."
That is fine.
Once you notice you've gone off on a thought or feeling,
Go back to observing them.
"Sometimes I want to act on my thought."
Then you can either act on it later and sit and observe it further, write it down, or you can act on it.
Then come back to sitting.

The details are supposed to merge with the general branch of knowledge.
The general branch is where the "notes are played" as I see fit - the imagination comes alive.
All other branches meet at the trunk, the mind and heart, where the One exists.

I sought visions;
I sought unific feelings;
I sought insights.
I got visions that churn imagination,
  history, and Gods.
I got unific feelings that made
  my whole body pulse together
  with the world and universe.
I got insights into origins, essentials,
  and outer limits.
All this through silence, and
  I ached.

Then I stared at the light,
  and remembered the darkness.
None of these seemed important
  any more.
The only thing that mattered
  was deed, good deeds.

Call it detachment from senses
  as the Buddha would say.
Call it an impulse to help others.

But all I can really say,
  is that I stared at the light,
  and it was so commonplace now,
  it was even as dust.
And all this inner travel
  and work meant nothing anymore.
How can I serve?

"Why do I have to settle down?"
The point is not to introduce into sitting a feeling or thought pattern from previous sitting.
Instead, to observe, with as little change in the body's condition, the thoughts, feelings, visions, and motions of energy.
"Why can't I just sit back in a chair?"
If so, the point in meditation will revolve around getting more and more comfortable.
You will adjust your body again and again to reach for comfort.
When you want to put a statue of a meditating figure in a home, do you want a statue of someone laying back in a chair meditating?
There is no cultivation of effort in sitting back
Sure sometimes my back needs rest.
That's fine.
"But meditation isn't supposed to use effort."
Whoever told you that doesn't understand what effort really is.
There are only degrees of effort.
All creation is pulled and pushed by gravity forces, every thought produces a vibration that must overcome this gravitation.
These people say "introduce the mantra as easily as these thoughts freely come to us."
That is fine, but that is effort in my opinion.
Silence within requires the least effort, yet still energy must have effort so as not to go to sleep.
For meditation, I think, is being awake, and awakening...
From our environment and our normal self, to reach a greater Self.
If anyone could reach a greater Self without effort, everyone would be as a god or goddess.
If you want to practice your mantra and sit back and relax, that's fine.
It will get you there.
I used to do that and be that
But my personal meditation is different.

I used to stay up all night in deep study,
but now my studying is slimmer because I've found more answers.

Now:
After an hour or two or rest there is a fresh
ground to plant myself in.

After two or three hours of gardening
in the fertile field, the crop is planted, and
the morning's work is done.

I now need to rest again for new fertile ground,
but also for the night
plants to sprout to cover my tracks.

I am like a coiled nerve made of hair.
I am yellow-green hue glowing here.
I am the determination of Superman's eye.
I am a planet in the sky.
I am the top-back of head pulled stiff.
I am gray shapes and shades of shadows and stuff.
I am a shape seen as a child.
I am a texture soft and mild.
I am a heart that wants another.
I am her crimson, her purple, her blue.
I want it all to make love with you.
I am the pupil of her eye.
How much I want to feel her skin.
I want to kiss her chin.
I want this all sanctified from place and time.
I want her to mesmerize my spine.
I want to hold her in my mind
Like beholding a diamond as mine.
I want to see her eyes glow.
I want to see her all bundled up in the snow.
I want to ram my ***** down her pantry.
I want to hold her hips as it gets juicy.
I want to hear her moan as I *******.
I want to make her ***** and frustrate.
How many times her beauty made me shed a tear.
How many times I want to hold her dear.
She makes my will jello.
She makes time slow.
Is it really time wasted to entertain her beauty?
To think of her naked *** so creamy?
I am this woman that won't leave my vision.
I feel her esteem's syncopation.
Yes, with this I get high on lust.
I am this shade that is in and around my head.
My brow is as an umbrella or the folliage of a tree,
While my jaw is the ground where I sit and see.
My crown is the sun beeming down on all this.
I never get to fully see what heated spirit can be.

What is my pride?
I'm a Baha'i, I study math and physics, and I study
martial arts.
Then this is where people may hurt me the most.
They will make my dimension into a lie,
contradict what I know so well.
A shove or a push, even a slap or hit only affects my body.
Hurting my feelings by making me feel unloved, that
is only my mammalian brain.
But defying my reason and insight - this is where I am
most weak.
To call my religion a plan of the Illuminati,
by calling my science untrue,
by saying I don't know anything of martial arts.
This is where the ego of the world now dwells:
within the reasoning mind.
This is where my testing will take place:
letting go of knowledge
to meet the words of the naysayer.

I will take your words and
transform them into love.
Then I will wait until I find a companion
heart, to tell my truth to.

Thought, memory, future, imagination.
2. Self, will, reflection.
3. Organization.
4. Universe, events.
5. Body, people.
6. Emotion.
7. Virtues.

Learning for me must come from a need to end my ignorance rather than to further my understanding inasmuch as furthering understanding is infinite while becoming tired of my ignorance happens after a period of time after learning something new.

The universe and all it's organizing power must sing in my soul it's anthem of mystery before I can crack a book.

Disbelief or doubt is my natural disposition.
With this I try to explain away what is inconclusive.
To a Christian leader, I have another gospel, so my prophet is false.
To a Muslim, I am an imposter because I believe in innovation.
To a Jew, I am not of the Chosen Ones.
To an atheist, I am unreasonable or delusive.
To a Buddhist, I cannot attain enlightenment.
Thus, to the secret societies of belief, I am a disbeliever, mad, and ignorant, going to hell, karmic or not, or to die a mortal death.

How can my healthy doubt have any way with explanation?
To incorporate the masses, we provide governments and universally make declarations as the United Nations.

Should I lose belief to satsify the masses: agreeing with them that I'm a disbeliever and coming to terms with atheists?

Just stand for love and unity.

The city sitter looks like the constituents of the city.
Silence goes to those who need safety the most.
Silence is not a light, but is usually unconsciously directed toward mercy for me, as my countenance is covered by its past.
Silence goes first to the wicked.

it wasn't a lie.
You stared into mine
we gazed as if two souls
from another time
with father loving eyes
I looked away.
you stared into mine
I noticed a darkness of pride.
When I stared back up
that spirit vanished
Your other eye
thought mine attractive
A little girl came out of you
you didn't back down
Your other eye grew wiser
Am I staring at your eye or your gaze?
It grew closer to the middle of your face.
Your mouth and cheek
gave out a slight pout.
I wanted to look nowhere else,
and you came to life.
I saw my female idol in your face
I looked at your mole, then I looked away
You kept staring, so I looked at
your shoulder and neck.
The bow in your hair,
now I regret.
I didn't see it when I first saw your eyes.
Do I want to kiss you
or just stare
at your eyes.

Two sets of eyes
Collide
In anger
In angst
One set is proud
And stands his ground.
Be his hurt
Be the pain
No questions asked
No turns to the right
Or to the left.

Turn fight/flight into widsom?
Maybe thinking about it at home.

Turn your head away
Walk home.

O traveler assured of God's mercy!
Life is full of adversity sweet, and gains leaving empty.
He who is truly assured has no peace, and the doubter is quite at rest.
The ear on true silence does not find peace, but continual affliction.
Each message conveyed is a step into the mind.
The mind, an ocean with no shore.
Silence is not a person.
Silence is an idea of the mind.
The mind is abstracted from reality: pure imagination.
Is there a soul separate from the mind?
Is there enlightenment separate from the mind?
As the universe is continually vibrating and changing in entropy, so too the mind can never stop, so use it for enlightenment!
But transcending is the fruit of the mind, the fruit of the soul, and the fruit of the physical body.
This is why I sit, and I believe my writing will bring me closer to this.

Should I give free away this truth... That it be eaten by sparrow and fly alike?
Once the pyramid became a part of my inner vision, I soon realized through diligence that It leads to E Pluribus Unum, "from many, one".
And as I solve my own problems, (they are the same for family, nation, and the world)
I see the picture of the gradual unity of our planet's society, and beyond.

Transcending mind and emotion is a half in this world half in the dream world reality. "Like a new moon came into conjunction with a full moon."

The sleepier I am, the more present I am.

The more aware I am, the more closed my eye is.

OM unfolds on my inner tongue.

"I just graduated from high school, what should I do now?"
There are some things to consider first.
1. Muhammad, pbuh, said that no one can take away the knowledge you're destined to have.
2. Self-directed learning is the highest form of knowledge, and in India the highest recognized scholars are self-taught.
3. There are free courses, videos, and lessons online in every field often done by some of the brightest minds, and textbooks for sale online.
4. Study one course or book at a time. Separate books that require study from books just for fun.
5. If you decide to go down this path, know that it is governed by motivation and this can change direction, often in conflict with true will, so be patient. Sometimes it can take years to finish a book.
6. I knew none of this when I was your age.

A full day's work
is as the energy
of three hour's reflection,
but getting up the
next day with lying
down and no sit
is dogshit.

Angry?
Frightened?
Sad
And alone?
Sleeping on benches?
We are one home
More central than one soul.
For a soul requires a 💓.
More than one person,
One home.

Movement and shout has been given to the world.
Who wants to spend time in stillness and silence?
Me who listens to the reverberation of these frequencies, and observes their form and colors.
Silence listens most to the unheard.
In it my consciousness forms a likeness of myself.
Mine is like that white guy with a buzz cut, who sees truth for himself, and has a wider than thin musculature (medium).
How similar are "we" really to put every white guy with a buzz cut with a medium build who rejects the conformal truth prevalent in this country and time?
Why should they be the sidhas that my mind shows me?
What is their power?
Their eyes show the imperfection of a tattoo.
That inkish black stare.
Those creases on the forehead.
That perplexed point on the brow.
That hair so short as to wonder its color, introducimg itself in the eye brows, the white skull cap, and even the short spotty beard.
The shadows between lights portrays more gray than black and white.
The gray of prison bars, the gray of streets, the gray of rain clouds.
With all the fancy of a toilet bowl.
With all the luxury of a walk.
More a "Beastie Boy" than an "Eminem".
More a Jew than a Christian.
More a Baha'i than a Muslim.
More a Buddhist than a Hindu.
When will shade and utility become beauty?

I slide my hand down your **** and thigh from behind as you are bent over, and making yourself a toy for me.
I penetrate you *******, in and out as your shelf provides a suction on and off.
Your skin gets hot and flush.
You grab me like your fulfillment depended on it.
My ***** grows so large that it pierces though your heart and lungs and out your mouth.
Can you feel it in your abdomen?
The pulse and push against your intestines?
Rocking your ecatasy up your tummy as you grab at your heart - pounding with your man.
The rush goes up your ahoulders, up your neck, and your head and face come alive with mortal pleasure.
As you take your mouth over my tower, pressing your lips and tongue on its veins and arteries, digesting the salty skin in your mucus.
Pulsing your head back and forth as if you're not drinking enough, as if your mouth had the sensitivity of your ******.
Without ******* you press it into your pus and my head pulses and enlarges pressing the back of your tunnel.
Woman's immortal enemy: my ******, jettisons my *****, mixing with your wet walls, producing a torrent of film.
We both hadn't had enough.

It is the capacity only to act for myself.
It is the capacity neither of self-subsistence nor without
self-reliance.
It is neither the epitome of wisdom, nor the epitome of
ignorance.
It is not the epitome of beauty nor the epitome of
ugliness.

Lack doesn't make for worry and excellences
are counted as special gifts of life.
Like a ****** pressed between my fingers is my soul
in God's Presence.
Thus, do I recognize my karma as not the
best, but not the worst.

It is surrounded by pretty, but not the equisite.
It is surrounded by clutter and dirt, but
not grotesque filth.
It is as a middle ground from which any quality
would cease the ground's existence.
It is not mommy or daddy, not child and not adult.
It is not old nor young.
It is not sun nor moon, but star.
It is not perfection, but comfortable imperfection.
It is not as fair as pastel, nor as gaudy as neon.
It is not known, but not unknown.
It is not host of a soul, yet does not exclude
any soul.
It does not grasp, nor release.

"Why is your skin orange?"
It is joking about vanity.
It is not slack, nor is it strong effort.
It is not wickedness, nor is it judgement.
It is not righteousness, nor is it evil.
It is not astray, nor is it unastray.
It is not a party, nor is it loneliness.
It is the monk of reality.
It pretends not to harness all of my memories.
Nor does it pretend not to conjure memories.
It is not shadow, nor light.
It is the plastic-self, unable to be immortal,
and unable to abide mortally.
It is the spirit of self, yet the spirit of others.
It is not empty, nor full.
It is construction of the simple.
It is construction of the difficult.
It is cleaning the toilet.
It aligns with no group, nor does
it not exist in any group.
It is folly through shallowness.
It is wisdom from shallowness.
It is not pure, nor does it lack
purity.
It is not popular, nor does it fail to get attention.
It is desire, not not sin.
It is her, but not Her.
It is resurrection, but not life nor death.
It is not heard, nor listened.
It is not unhealthy, nor is it strong.

boyhood crushes.

It is not power, nor is it incapacity.
It is not opinionated, nor is it opinionless.
It is not blood, nor is it light.
It is not long, nor short.
It is not curved, nor straight.
It is not solid nor gas.
It is not water nor is it not a liquid.
It is not salt nor is it not saline.
It is not belt, nor backpack.
It is not car nor home.
It is not bed nor is it not rest.
It is not gold nor bread.
It is not giving nor hoarding.
It is not meat but it is cheese.
It is not poor, nor rich.
It is not career nor retirement.
It is not fair, nor unfair.
It is holy, but not pure.
It is not heresy, nor help.
It is not metro nor country.
It is not the center nor is it the side.
It is not age nor mind.
It is not body nor heart.
It is not skin nor bone.
It is not brief nor long.
It is not sink nor swim.
It is not lesson nor tale.
It is not story nor biography.
It is not virtue nor vice.
It is not a lie nor a truth.
It is not shallow nor deep.
It is not structure nor process.

Samadhi.

O diver, crush this body of union, to possess
a greater diamond.
Alas, all earthly joy is crushed by the wet
weather.
All spirituality seems to turn back to the
dust.
Spiritual images, though seen, are not felt.
Spirit only reaches out, but finds just another
human, some invisible princess to grasp with its
tentacles.

Reality is the road to truth, truth is the destination of the road.
Understanding is the feet carrying me on the road.
Bliss is the person waiting at the destination.
My feet are mistaken for the road or my feet are mistaken for the person waiting for me.
The road, too, seems like the destination, and I come to believe the person has stopped waiting for me.

A day of sit
open a book
write a verse
scroll the
Wikipedia
write and categorize
vocabulary from
a published article
on the fundamental forces

pray and sit
eat and sit
lay down and wait

get up and, go!

What more than a head and body?
What more than a room?
What more than staring eyes?
Do they ever pierce through?
The molecules of the things in here spark no new sense to me.
Nor outside taking a smoke.
There has got to be a word for this.
Not boredom, not austere.
Not glum, not shade.
Lukewarm light, maybe.
Noble stare of the formless mind, perhaps.
Miser, hopefully not.
Forgetful, of the world though.
Hopeful, no, a little more resigned.
A frequency? Could be.
The loser, the creative?
The inventor, the wannabe?
Expectant, too intense.
Drifting on the hard edge of the mind.
Why can't a fish bite?
Why not one?
I'm a doomed fisherman with none.
No flower has vloomed, not an exceptional one.
How do forms collectively merge into one, though separate I see?
I'll explore this novelty.
Blind to multiplicity things become one.
What price do I pay for collectivity?
Look at the Earth so together, so one.
Yet how little I can relate to Her.
I see a collection of rooms, a collection of houses, a collection of cars and businesses.
Collection of dishes, a collection of cash and credit receipts.
This is the minor Earth I see.
A collection of esteem's, a collection of words, thoughts, and things.
Nothing like iron-hard duty to break apart the day.

This is our last day together.
All of you I want to remember.
Parting ways, everlasting gaze,
will there be better days for us?
Or will you be the best I ever had?

This is our last day together.
All of you I want to remember.
We've had some good times together.
Remember our righteous heartache.
All light soon will start to fade away.

This is our last day together.
All of you I want to remember.
You made me sparkle in my heart.
Free now, how do I even start?
It was hard together, harder to part.

This is our last day together.
All of you I want to remember.
It wasn't about me or you.
It was about us always true.
Can I even say what will come to pass?

This is our last day together.
All of you I want to remember.
I'll be alone without you though.
Eternal tears, but feelings fade.
But I'll keep you tucked away from the storms.

This is our last day together.
All of you I want to remember.

This is our last day together.
All of you I want to remember.

This is our last day together.
All of you I want to re-mem-ber.

There must be no other way than approaching a math problem without notes.
Going into it with only the last few pages of work, which probably doesn't even give the answer.

What I envy is having one problem that a mathematician wishes to work on, and doesn't give up until she has exasperated every nook.
For me, that problem would have to so boggle the mind that it would seem like I would have to invent something just to make it work.
No, I'm not one to finish calculating a list of unknowns to come up with a super-law.
No, I'm one to invent from nothing.
Challenge authority.
I say I can prove that a tangent plane can intersect a sphere in two points.
It seems silly, but think what a new math could do!
I must use all my psychic powers to do so, but don't tell anyone, just between me and you.
Think of the possibilities!

Mad, perplexed, or sleepy.
That's when I see me.
My body isn't an image of God, it's more like static on TV.
I am crime, in my prime.
About as rich as a dime.
It is forever mine.
I face darkness in the essence of my look.
No book can make me sparkle,
No knowledge can make me beautiful.

Criminal eyes turned kind.
Why is black and white not gray?
My brow tells me more about me than my eyes.
My soft chin reveals a thin film of true vision.
Like I'm choking on reality.
My lines mingle on my forehead.
Seeing my transgressions make me know who I am, that I am not what I imagine, but what I do.
All the thieving and vandalism truly made me fall from heaven.
Sins against property.

I'm saying "my goodness" when perplexity perfectly meets madness.
I teach myself to nevermind true sadness.
Sad is what I am when I'm searching for me in another man.
A man of good deeds outshines me.
He makes my weak structures safe.
He makes me fear of the kingdom in his eye.
But I didn't see him as a child.
He tried to fix something that he never could.
He doesn't realize that a true Self could be found in darkness.
Yet when compared to recent crimes, I'm as pure as 0.995.
I'll never be as original as old rhymes.
Words need vision behind them.
But I always see the same thing.
I see floaters in my eyes.
What matters is when I recognize me in every part.
I see the good in me and it can't be me.
I can only be my crime, my knowledge of mercy, or the fear of God.
Fear in His Name is not the same as fear of His Self.

I am a course and
weak Self imbibed
with only me.
There is no image
save My image.
There is no soul save
My soul.
I'm refreshed by my
own eye and my own
breeze.
My being radiates its
own oneness with its
Self.
This is the garden
of immortality.
Free from the Manifestation,
abiding in my love
for my Self.
I should tell Bob
that "Baha'u'llah
said that
the highest spiritual
station is to be free
from the oneness with
the Prophet and see
oneself as exalted -
being encompassed
by the love for one's
Self."

Many in this realm get
caught in the thoughts
of others, not listening
to their own voice.
Every guide and guru
cannot stand the one
who is in love with
only himself.
Here there is no
need for others to
hear or follow.
I become the center
actor of my own
movie.
I see the image of
a statue  embodying
my Self.
Yes, we are all one
Self, enthroned in
the highest.
This is the realm of
Self-Authority
where the Manifestation is
equally envious of me.

Every thought of self
inadequacy
is met with the
sparkling beauty
of my Self.

I am ******
I am ****
Because I am you
And you are me.
We are one.

To a dishwasher, an invention might be to wash a dish that has never been clean.
To a mathematician, an invention might be to solve a problem that has never been solved.
Both are very tricky and I want to give up before I start.
Both take "grease" and a will to come back time and time again.

You have come with the same face of falsity.
Bearing the heart of the Holy Spirit.
Declaring: A New Day has come.
What is your name O Messenger most skillful?
Where can we meet on this Earth?

After resigning myself, He made reply:
I speak words like you, yet the import is more dire: "Man is One, God is One, and all the religions agree. If we have these three onenesses, we'll have world unity."
More than this I'm not able to provide until 2823 AD.

An hour later I was tasked with the conflicting divines. I made reply: there are degrees of literality and esotericism in many hues and frequency levels and they can be seen in this way as there are many tones in a Melody or colors in a painting. So join in the music and art, celebrating unity in diversity.  What more could show our unity than peace, love, and kindness toward all?

Next, those weary of such words were not moved, and I adjusted my tone: see with your own eyes, hear with your own ears, feel with your own bones. I let you decide if these words are true or sincere.

I find myself in an uneasy stupor, amix of stress and reality.
It seems that no freedom from medication can change the bleakness of reality.
Whereas before I was beholder of every dream, now I live in my own dream-like state.
As though my mind is always at sea.
Like a moat my eye is, from which my feet cannot carry me.
Dependent on the clarity of others.
My eyes beget no sharpness.
As one half-asleep my tale unfolds.
I live halfway in bed and halfway outside it.
No one to save me from this reality.
My daydream journeys are as real as my wakefulness inasmuch as they both carry my soul away.
My right eye cannnot be open
My left eye cannnot be closed.
Every thought takes me to a place.
Every though takes me from here.
No word can be spoken from one place, but is spoken from half here half there.
My inner eye can rarely meet my outer one.
I can't fully get out of my sleep.

If left to nothing, I am ******.
If left to nothing, I am expressive but not intellectual.
If left to nothing, my thoughts make no logical point though.
If left to nothing, my time fills with sleep.
If left to nothing, I work with my hands doing simple things
If left to nothing, I only study what I perceive.
I can only see my Self as a criminal.
The Self hides the thought.
The Self makes a point.
The light shows it's greater than darkness.
My Self tries to copy their brightness.
While I take glory in unkindness.
My Self is joined by God governance.
I'm cast away for hypocrisy.
I'm left to gather intentions, see.
I can never again be the first elect.
I am forced to recollect.
Their fairness makes me their equal.
My spiritual station is with God not the people.
Madness is my true Self.
Victimhood is my true wealth.
Displaced is the eye from my story.
What's left is a body - no glory.
My light itself is lost and perplexed.
These words getting me to the next.
I see someone worse off, I just want to bless.
I see the eyes of the Local Spiritual Assembly.
It's an understanding and not my reality.
I see the moral understanding.
I have almost no share in its standing.
Their light is weaker than darkness
My light is just blindness.
Anger is truth
Perplexity is truth.
Friendship is a lie.
Mercy allows me to know why
Safety comes before playfulness.

Timid eyes.