My eyes are so full of joy from a day spent with a dear friend.
We climbed into the mountains of our hearts.
What could be a greater adventure?
We sang our thoughts to each other.
I learned how to better be.
As you ignored my small talk while parting, we both knew we were meant for these mountains, and not the common plains.

Words, words hurt even if they are just restating facts.
Facts somehow now twisted by how they were originally delivered.
Passing on information to people I think should know.
Know for my heart, know for my peace of mind.
But jealousy it seems should always be forgotten.
Talking about it magnifies it beyond what it is, just slight and simple.
I made a man into a monster in her eyes.
Something he doesn't deserve.
I sit in the midst of a love triangle in which the woman doesn't want either of us.
She just wanted to be friends with both of us.
Now her urge to be more intimate with me as a friend is blocked by a barrage of concentration on a subject that should be so light and whimsical.
And a friend who had his heart crushed by seeing that intimacy.
I feel like a wolf, these words bite and wrangle, and won't dissipate for 100 years, says Muhammad, pbuh.
I always think work will become easier, but tests multiply, and it stays hard - hard in heart.

O night that has eclipsed tomorrow's day.
O joy born of nutmeg.
You are just like the joy without you, only I find it through digestion of food and sweets, cigarettes and coffee.
In any case that joy is a gradual climb unlike nutmeg.
Should you be God's word among others?

O neck of pain,
O joints of strain.
O look without word.
O look without attribute.
Light aligns in columns to thee.
Now light a leaning tower.
Now a horizontal bar.
My light is put out by eye's lens.
*My consciousness puts out my stare.

My eye tells me I'm still 17 years old.
Sharing time with these classmates,
Their strength and compassion.
I am my criminal acts and the response which the law made against me.
Why did I hide my light of character in them?
To refuse my brother's good?
That I may stand with my own eyes - evil though they be?
For to live always under the guise of another's eyes is not justice.

O silver and black knight of the forest,
what goal have you taken up for the castle?
"I seek to slay with my beauty only..."
"Slay those cries and moans from lonely damsels."

"What business does an evil eye have in the land
of purity and repose?"
"I have many good deeds fine guardian."
"Then enter secure, but let no evil in, or you will be cast
out."
....
"You have no business here until your
wicked deeds are paid for, get out!"

"Hey, that's okay," a fair damsel
allows me to part from my solitude.
Put on the sandy veil of partnership, for the spirit has
reached into the divine female and divine male.
Let those chakras make a transpersonal point,
but sacral business is all I see.
Maidens forever young.

It seems an eunich has breached our display.
But are we allowed back into the land of purity and repose?
It seems the true goal of a babe's heart
at the lap of his mother has entered the lair.

Now is the fair damsel taken to the merciless judge.

Now is a beautiful friend, waiting all this
time, to exchange a breeze
of heartfelt love.
****** purity is sought after, yet
there is no place to hide a ****.

Light no longer is transferred from the 8th dimension.
The male/female chakras above the crown open up again
for sacral play.
The sattvic essence remains,
and I am held dearly at this party.

The children outlast me during the night.

I enter through a circular gate of pastel crystal petals
into a deck of superstrength beings
of all colors.
A female face is grafted to mine.
She puts on silver and black armor
and the walls are crimson.

Those crow's feet
and lines by your smile
tell a million more stories
than a face
smooth and sweet.
Bittersweet wisdom hidden
beneath what it means
to be woman.
yet your eyes take me to court
ruling I'm 5-10 years
still young.
The worn skin on the front
of your neck
the freckles at the top
of your chest.
A million women would ****
to be as thin.
There is something spiritual
about age
that no one can crack
nor dismiss.

Water drips from a faucet
Or it gushes out of a shower head
Sometimes I want to turn it off
Sometimes I want to leave it on
Sometimes I drink it
Sometimes I swish and spit it out

O beauty in my horizon
You look at me like a thousand days
we've spent together, or
longer still.
You take pride in our gaze together.
You are the answer
to my every male instinct.
And there you recline,
as if you are made of starlight,
as if you've swallowed the moon.
Your neck has no point save
regarding me.
You are intent on setting
me aflame with desire for you.
My body aches to keep
its inner mojo.
Yet you snake around
my neck and seep into
my testicles.
You say "this is a test".
"For what?"
"You know" she replies.
"A test for me" she gives a second answer.
"To see if you can come on my star destroyer"
"Where does that lead?" I ask.
"To another time."
"A time when you're free."
Then Christ's neck holds me:
"Can you pray with Me, and stay resolute?"

Sigh.
Another night
that I might not know my pillow.

Light, not heavy.
Light, not dark.

Heavy, not knowing.
Dark, yet to be seen.

Wonder, amazing.
Complex, simple.
Tacit and discrete.

Notes and ears.
Lines, shapes, changes to equations.

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.

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.

Math is switching always between calculation and visualization.
Usually more time is spent understanding how to do a problem than actually calculating them.

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.

Half of math is knowing the possibilities.
The other half is knowing the impossibilities.
One without the other is not reality.
If you live only in the possible, then math is not for you.

Math problems usually don't use imagination, but physics has been helped by reflective similes when the math is correct.

Math must be seen as a spiritual practice or else the ego will never be satisfied.
Math is a way to enlightenment, a way to gain invisible bestowals.
To further the field of mathematics is in the hands of God.
The difference in views is restless dissatisfaction versus equanimity.

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.

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!

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.

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.

What does it mean that my logic and reasoning could solve a problem?
Meaning the one who gave me the problem could solve it already.
Yet there are those who have gone through all the courses of problems, all ending in relatively the same place mentally.
However, there are still problems they can't solve.
What does it take for a breakthrough?

To know when to employ math known to mankind and when I can't.
To know when I need something new or when I can use something old.
This, I believe, is the crux of the matter.
Otherwise, I try to invent new what is already done and so go nowhere except to prove to myself what all these people knew from a different perspective.

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?

SPIRIT
It seems my reality is connected to 'Abdu'l-Baha and Baha'u'llah inasmuch as I recite their words.  Also, the Bab.  Perhaps too Muhammad inasmuch as I obey Hadith and read the Qur'an.  Is my lack of reality really God? What does it mean to be God's servant but not His son? That seriousness born of the Seal of the Prophets? Or, that seriousness born of irresponsibility and wickedness? What can come from mere presence? "This cyclic scheme is to Him but a stare." Thoughts of Hindu statues of the gods and goddesses. Yes, the spiritual reality doesn't work for me at command. It doesn't entertain me either. It usually requires some input to show me anything.

MIND
That lack of any changing form going through my mind. Thoughts of a previous text and its sender. Conversations via text. The heart feels betrayed by a friend for not showing up. Memories of my friend's neighborhood. Anything of substance except the interactions I have on my phone and the memories which our words and persons reveal? Do I have any unconscious left? Anything hiding? Fears of reincarnation. Anxiety about work due to not staying in the "now". Unfulfilled plans of society. Is there anyone coming to my Group of Silence devotional? Odds unlikely. Alone on Zoom.

The conviction of medication and meditation, which changed my D's and F's into A's and B's in college. My lack of use of the knowledge I gained. Still hopeful of discovering some new form of mathematics, even if on my deathbed - I'm guessing around 80 if I keep smoking.

"There is no pain you are receding" and "*******" whisper in my mind. "Comfortably numb" - it seems like the highest spiritual state, but a state of incapacity for the investigating mind. "Is there anybody in there?" A German seven that looks like kanji.

BODY
Maybe a serious eye? Those eyes with nothing to do. Can a mirror not truly tell me about myself? For what information can come from a blank stare? A ****** in the nose. A worry-filled stare. One ear a little pulled out due to wearing COVID masks. I haven't trimmed my beard for five days. I haven't gotten a new face. My eyes are the same color. My hair, not darker nor lighter. The bags under my eyes betrays youths. My distinguished, yet still rounded cheeks. My beard hides my ****-chin. My less distinguished jaw, ovalish but with a point. Those searching eyes. A neck with so much stress built up that I unconsciously twist and crack it. Memory of the first time it spasmed. Vitamin care. Laundry drying. It must be this blank stare that is highest of high, that can be low, low.  I rub my scalp to ease muscle tension. I think about aligning my chakras, but a blank stare seems more worthwhile.

I consider smoking a touch of nutmeg, but I'm concerned how anxious it will make me, and how I lack ability in communication afterwards. I make coffee, a caffeine high will do. The cream gives me comfort. The workers getting off work add to my austerity. All those songs stored in neurons of my brain, waiting to be plugged-in. Somehow old rock songs from the 70's give me a place.

Now that beautiful lady appears to me saying "come, come" or rather "***, ***". I was so empty of everything, and she now fills my brain with connections to desire. I give in to the pressure and put a small dob of nutmeg on the end of my cigarette. Not enough for a full high, but just a little joy. Now there is experience and experiencer, not just a blank stare.

I can see my *** stare. I am as a baby in my mother's arms, I am so irresponsible. My body is a temple, with rooms, that I'm somehow detached from as if I'm in a dream witnessing it. Now I swim in this temple but I am not its fullness. I am not its command. I am no longer the tree but the twig. I am this plant called nutmeg. This is my vibration - pharmaceutical.

My buzz cut portrays a Buddhist monk's sitting. My coworker cut off all her hair once. Is she monkish as well? My body, as a sitter, full of reflection, why is this such an archetype? Does it know all, no, it only knows one, me. Is that all I am required of? To know simply me. Is there anything of depth in me?

Repose in my eye. I think of the faithful not under the influence. Have I missed a spark of truth which I would've found? My browline reminds me of a Klingon. So aggressive. I rock back and forth and around and around. I'm mixing this tonic drink in my skull. Is my body too full and big for my neck and head? how much does it matter? When will I do my next ab workout?

Memories of doing nutmeg, the cool let down off the high. The feeling it will never really subside.  Moving around in my seat like a Sufi dancer. Looking like I'm a ghost in the machine. The wetness of the white in my eye portrays tears of passion for Chloe. The residue of oil on my brow and cheek portrays sweating out the nutmeg.

My chrome dome and short beard remind me of a wizard, rather of my high school physics teacher. Science seems like wizardry at times. Contorting my face with my hands shows all sorts of masks: Asian clown and Cabbage Patch doll. Pressing on my forehead makes me look Romulan. Contorting my nose to a pig's or what I see as an English nobleman.

My head swings around like a medieval flail. Like I'm in a roller coaster. Like an Indian in devotion. Like a magician performing an act. Like a wolf ripping apart its prey. Like the monks who hit their heads with boards in "Camelot": "Oh ee eh Oh dominae, Oh ee eh Oh requi eh". Coming to the conclusion that the body doesn't change so quickly that it can by observed. But when I consciously change it, similitudes appear from memory.

CONCLUSION
Is all observation a metaphor or simile? Or, judgment and reason made out of a group of observations? Math is made from first geometry: a basic point, and then a line. Math is a physical reality, or abstractions from basic physical reality. Therefore, speaking merely in basic simile is also an abstraction from physical reality.

All there is is the physical.  Mind is due to my frontal lobe. Spirit is reduced to feeling, even if transcending regular feeling - mere EMF pattern of the body.

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.

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".

'Abdu'l-Baha said that all current forms of astrology
are bogus,
but said that the stars do affect us,
because He wanted to make us try and understand
the sky for ourselves.

The sky is as the mind, cognition, in change.
While earth is as the body, structure, little change.
The sun moves the fastest from day to day,
so it is the heart, the essence.
The moon moves slower, but still relatively fast.
It is as "the breath, the Spirit," He said.
Mercury is the fastest planet in the sky.
It is as "water, the baptism of knowledge," He said.
All the other planets move at about the same speed
up there.
The constellations are as designs and spaces,
crystals, if you will,
by which we see.
The movement of the stars from century to century
is like the circadian rhythm.

See clearly
and find out for yourself
using a star map.
This is all done within reason
and mirrors many elements of
other ancient astrology.

How did I walk 37 miles in 19 hours?
How did I bike 90 miles in 11 hours?
...
Inhale in nose, exhale in nose 4x
Inhale in nose, exhale in mouth 4x
Inhale in mouth, exhale in nose 4x
Inhale in mouth, exhale in mouth 4x
And repeat.

You just need enough food and water and a pair of soft and hard soled shoes.

"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.

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.

I am the salivic twinkle in the eye.
I am the loss of vision when I look at a light.
I am the placement of a thing now, only put in my past, and played in my future.
I am the thing there now, that I placed in the past, and will leave there for the future.
I am too many to count
I am too dark to describe.
I am the colorful shades and lines of the inner eye perceiving my physical body.
Physical isn't quite right.
More like eternal-like being.
More like eternal-like spleen.
"Me" is so far out,
I don't know what this body is here before me.
What do these clothes cover?
Asymmetric from the center out.
Saying this like I gave humans life, made them walk upright.
I am the multichrome of closed eyes in a lit room.
I am faux wood.
I am that thing from the past, placed in the now, and still doesn't understand it's creator.
I am the question "why" which was never meant to be answered.
I am realizing those who are sanctified in their breath.
I am nerve meets bone meets skin meets hair.
But all in one form, I can't see how it happens.
I am what my eye looks like without seeing it, just imagining it.
"I am what I am" when I ask this question.
Sort of a mix of shape, mind, and hue.
Or is it head, line, and imagined body?
Does my hand touch my skull? Then is the hair and skin something unknown or forgotten?
What comes of the thought that is unrecognized during contemplation?
Are these really the bait for the goldfish in the mind's pool?
"Oh no, what am I going to do?" as a "bad" trip shortens my view.
The bone dry feeling of the fear of God, crushing every tendril and way that once carried me along merrily.
"What if I lose God by taking too much nutmeg?"
"You can't (or shouldn't) do that" a voice whispers to both losing God parts and taking too much nutmeg.
Now I'm contented and thoughts will no longer emerge from the pool.
So I must dive into sleep.
Good night.

"Were ye to emerge from the obscuring dust of
utter nothingness, then ye would recognize
that all things declare the evidences
or your existence."

That happens every time I pull an all-nighter.

from before Rama to beyond Baha'u'llah

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.

What is over there?
You're going swimming.
Your swimming suit fits well.
Your brow speaks of knowledge
your ear catches my tune
I think of a brush when you pull back your hair.
Too bad these hands are unfit to touch you.
"That's okay Chad, I get it," you whisper half to
yourself.
The weather fills up your gaze
Half looking at me, half looking away.
I enjoy the paleness of your skin.
I notice now the sun on your face,
a dancer's chin.

The hologram of the mind is so vast that enlightenment would have to be like a complete update of my operating system.

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.

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.

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.

As Plato stated:
First study sound,
then philosophy,
and finally physics.
So too, in the inner school:
mantra,
then silence,
and finally visualization.

For once all three are studied,
all can work in harmony.

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.

Those who believe in Me have a special place after they die. They will be given untold glory and joys of ineffable gladness. Those who doubt My words will come to know of their loss after death and will continue to humble themselves throughout eternity. Fires of ignorance will bind them throughout the worlds of God.  When they seek distinction after death, they will weep bitterly as one who has not know God.  Belief in Me is contingent on obeying My laws and neither is acceptable without the other. If the rebel ceases their transgression, and asks for forgiveness in a state of repentance, it will be better for them. Weigh not My words with any other Book or allusion and confuse not thyself with signs which bear no reality. My Knowledge has always been with God as it shall remain.

I find myself in between the Gog of complexity and the Magog of simplicity. Let forth your tongue to extol God and Its Message. No man hath taken Its image as God is beyond reflection.

When the boy asks to know, set thyself toward your own sight and renounce any thought save Me. No helper do you have save Me.
We speak only what We hear, and never will spiritual dominion be given to one who produces thoughts set on the vanities of the world. Produce their dominion by using them for the benefits of mankind.

Those who cannot overlook the misdeeds of the Chosen Ones of God, the Prophets, will never be able to overlook the deeds of any of God's creatures.  Such lucidity will overcome them, and they will be forced to acknowledge that no being in the heavens or in the earth can leave without a trace of hate in the hearts when looking with the eyes of retribution.

The time for justice has come. Make a plan for the redemption of your heart, but know that whosoever overlooks others' shortcomings is met with more rewards in the worlds of eternity. For whose plan of vengeance is more just than God's, Who punishes without the knowledge of Its creatures and rewards without their knowledge either.

No laws will be given by Me save the exact Law of Baha'u'llah's Covenant. For I have not come to change His laws, but fulfill them. Abandon your couches for seat with the Christ. He is come again unto you while ye were enmeshed in your own designs.
Have you not heard the bells peal in My name, though the name be bereft of glory, We have come to extol God's laws, laws which will pattern a civilization in the feet of Isaiah's prophecy. Everywhere Its laws are heard over the skies and throughout the earth. Hearken then to taking delight in them.

For whoso has turned away from them, hath turned away from the Spirit and never associated with It. For the senses seek their own sight, and I have come to give you God's vision. Instead, you have turned to the god of the air and body, and not the God Divine, the One alone that can release you into the worlds of eternal sunshine. Though the god of the body gives the beauty of your own existence, I have come as a gardener to set the diverse plants of humanity in order. We see that little gardening has been done, so there is plenty still to do.

The purity must be cast aside to see God equal in all people.
For all are unified in station and wealth in rank before God, none more righteous nor more rich than another.
In this case God enriches all of us in our lack and withholds in our fortune.
For none is self-sufficient without Him.
Purity is more about the strength of desire.
It is easy to remain pure when its fires are not enflamed.
What does purity and righteousness hold?
It can only be detachment from the world.
The "world" meaning that which takes us from our Lord.
Is it right to delight in purity?
It seems so empty in a world with so few single women my age that doesn't have kids nor does drugs.
I actually don't even know one. Really.
I'm pure for myself then only?
To delight in my righteousness to only belittle the feeble?
To stand as a noble eunich with the ****** 40 & 50 somethings?
If I'm pure, I have no home in the dust.
I have no friend to share in purity.
Purity is outward.
How do I perceive reality with outward orientation?
Pure ways become my mantra.
Not just chaste eyes, but a pure body.
I become enslaved to worship my own body.
My outer body has no significance to me.
I smoke cigarettes to fight my eyes from transfixing on it.
I postpone workouts until not my body but my energy is in need of vitality.
I tattoo my skin to break the idol of the body.

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.

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.

My Self is rooted in a larger city than mine.
My Self is rooted in male comradery.
My Self falls into a group. The group isn't universal for all my traits though.
Thus comradery isn't a universal attribute in this sense.
However, if I feel I need comradery, and I'm not in familiar surroundings, I can shift to a reality of the oneness of humanity, where all share the same home.

She says, "Chad, **** me hard."
She puts her hands on my shoulders and slips on to my *******.
She bangs herself while she thinks of me.
She knocks on my front door and disrobes in the entryway.
I cup her ******* with my hands as I **** her from behind.
Our rocking motion ebbs and flows.
I kiss her neck as she pulls back her hair.
My lips slowly go down her shoulders onto her chest and I taste her salty skin
We walk through a forest in daylight hand in hand.
We bicycle to a coffee shop together and sit down at a booth with our warm mugs.
Then I read this poem to her.
The words dance in her receivers, she says "thank you".
Then she walks away by herself
With her memory of us together.
Knowing we will meet again.

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.

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.