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May 2015
I see I seeing I seeing
I drank from That cup
As the liquid spilled over the lip
Into my open mouth
There lay a mystery on my tongue
Unnamed sensation in my throat
A knife cutting deeper and deeper
A sharpness dissecting.
Sometimes an axe, hacking.
Sometimes a needle, sewing.
A pierceness, the clear blade
Of the mind.

The silence so loud, comforting
Yet disquieting.
The silence in my ears,
A miracle, a bane, a source.
Opening doors to curious flowers,
Strange yet native to my work.
A curious pattern in my heart
Resting on the laurels of my past,
Practices I had to forget,
Like laughter.
The silence, a peace I can return to.
A deep and penetrating character
Of existence itself.

Animal, plant, mineral.
Human with peculiar work, very peculiar work.
The cosmic sense of humour.
Eyes looking at eyes
That appear, like a wave, a sense form.
Ghostly clouds and fairy apparitions.

There is an ancient wizard monk,
A blue mystic sage that walks.
He is always walking, always moving forward.
His long hair, long nose,
And even longer cloak,
Generating the Abyss.

Then doors again open to evergreen branches,
Swaying on my cheek, whispering the sweet joke of
“you are not alone, you are not alone”.
Creeks and valleys, ferns and fiddleheads,
I ascended the quiet mountain.
Made requests for what I did not know.
Asked to keep unknown promises I could not keep.
I had lost my heart.
It was to be found in the decaying mushrooms
Or fallen trees, which became “logs”.
It was to be found in the limitless forgiveness of the Goddess,
And the glowing of the moon, too bright, too bright.

The beauty swallowed me whole,
And spit me out.
All I could hear was the trickling water,
The songbirds call,
And my inner voice, deep, deep.
I consulted my past, soil and dirt both.
My past as a Queen, a carrier, a holder of the secret language, as loam.
Hooked, I was hung, to bleed until clean.
I couldn’t surrender to the Horror. It was just as great a burden as the Beauty.
How is it I confine myself here,
Trapped in my own expansion
Much too free in my own deconstruction.
Much too attached
To my preferences for life’s wild songs that fill the air.

The same reality, underlying the foundation of everything.
Layers of endless illusion,
Sparks of entertainment.
So many comparisons.
Are not the blind happy to see?
Even if what they see is not the bare reality before them,
Barren of all colour and vibrancy?
I do not know.

Tenaciously, I jumped off a moving train.
I barrelled down the mountain.
In a sadness, I had forgotten how to feel laughter in my heart.
My inner self looked on, watching
Witnessing me learn.
The minimum of respiration to stay alive.
Wellness ran dry, hope was put on ice -
At least not obliterated, as suggested.

The frequency of the water which formed the tears I cried.
So many different frequencies. So many tears.
Much of this I have read and studied,
Much of these lessons have I digested.
Many I’ve experienced, forcefully
From external pressures and inducements.

Can the Buddhist taste the truest quality of the tea she drinks?
I’ll enjoy it and leave the true tasting to her.

Can the austere sample Earth’s greatest delights, in the clearest quality of their form?
Good, I’ll savour and leave the clear sampling to them.

Can the pious smell the sweetest scents that the spring grounds do give off?
Wonderful, I’ll be happy to sniff and leave the sweetest smelling to them.

They are now leaving.
Gone are those who work themselves into atoms.
May they enjoy their disintegration, into the intigration
Of universal truth.
They are more enlightened.
I wish I could taste those fruits,
But am not willing to sacrifice lust for Life.
We are equal, we are equal.
Too cruel is the depth, too violent is the scale.
I refuse it,
And accept myself as is.
Open, immense growth.

So now, in pieces, torn
And battered and broken by the Horror and the Beauty.
I pick up my pieces, put back together the puzzle,
Coming back to some kind of Original Mind.
I dropped the reins I was never holding in the first place.
Leaped off the speeding black horse of complete stillness.
Bones broken, muscles frozen, teeth shattered,
Brain fizzled out.
I pray for those who really have to experience
Insanity via disease.

So much magic. What has disappeared is the urgency -
The desperate need to express
The disappearance of the illusion
That the Great Force doesn’t know how thankful I am.
It made me that way, so it should know.

And I emerge with greatness
That is cloudy but present.
A giant bird ruffles itself in the dandelion field.
The mammoth linx, teaching me in my dreams
“don’t let your addictions become a robust yet scrawny beast
That others will have to wrestle”.
The message of feathers is soar softly on the four winds.
Smile with delight, you have permission.
Chuckle at the obvious captain:
“If you throw dirt into the wind, you are going to get *****!”
Prana Moonshine
Written by
Prana Moonshine
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