Divinity is an infinite concept- never ending and never beginning. Before creation there was the Divine and after attainment there is the Divine. To move within the Divine Way is to move within eternity. Within the eternally passionate and spontaneous movement of Divinity is the fullness of omnipotence.

To follow the Divine Spirit is to live within the shadow of creation. It is the ecstasy of “Buddhahood attained” and then laughed at in the ****** of eternity. It is Enlightenment or Holiness always, then steadfastly shunned in the decadence of their implications.

To move within the oneness of the Divine is to perceive the sameness of things, but things are things and to say that they have no meaning, or that all meaning is one meaning, is to be lost within the ocean of the void- the indulgence of omnipotence.

To follow the Divine Spirit is to understand the deeper meaning of things. All worlds of the escapist and the realist are both real and unreal, for the Divine is Enlightenment, but illusionary in its idealistic terms. It is the great river on its never ending journey to the sea, but to reach the ocean is to be lost, to cease to be, for it is always within the journey that one finds meaning and never at journey’s end.

Those that do not know the harmony of the Divine live in materialistic emptiness. I WANT, I WANT, I WANT – a childish form of avarice, of impulsiveness and sentimentality, a continuous grasping, a world full of desire – the very foundations of fear and affliction. Those that proclaim the Divine find nothing but discriminative idealism. I AM, I AM, I AM – the indulgence of pride and love – an idealism based on a relativistic compassion, concealing in truth a desire for self-worship.

For those who travel in tune with the harmonics of the Divine- IT IS, IT IS, IT IS – spirit reflects its own reward. The bonds of illusion fall as leaves from a tree in autumn; all is right within the world for Spirit moves within.

I saw a picture of peace, in a simple kitchen
scene, hair in dark ringlets a face of middle
age, and eyes as deep as wells.

A humble home, a woman of peasant stock. A
glance so dull, yet deep in cost, in this I saw
peace in trade a life of cost, for this single
scene.

What price those eyes, what price such depth?
A simple scene, a lifetime made. One
glance and then, it’s gone.

By Jason Cain.