Jan 9
Why would I speak to them?
They are of many dimensions away!
I have not persisted in receiving the Lord’s gift of breath merely to squander it in efforts of trying to reach the ascended.
“Fool!
Of what futility do you speak?
The ‘ascended’ never actually rise at all
of those ‘dimensions’ that you reference
they are upon plains of existence
much like ours
in fact,
one with ours
they still walk among you”.
You speak of “oneness”?
“Solidarity”?
No!
Ha!
Do you speak of “synchronicity”?
Deliverance from the decay the spirit kept in flesh?
“No.
I speak of a realm attached to our own
an extension rather.
Can you not feel them around you?
They are disembodied from the flesh,
yet,
embodied inside of your mind and heart
emancipated from the bounds of the physical
you being ‘alive’ renders you an alien to their realm
or, at least you may believe so.
You are no more separated from those aspects of the heart as a whisper, still audible, would be from your lips
so, don’t be so foolish.
You reject that which begot you?
They are still here.
‘Separation’ is a weak concept among the divine”.
That is an actuality that I can not fathom.
A dubious concept
fiend!
I can not hear them if they speak.
I have worn my feet down to the bones
flesh bruised by snow – that frozen beauty of fallen water
that great white mass had devoured my shoes
soaking wet as me and a friend treaded miles towards a promised warmth.
Where were they to carry me at least?
I did not fall,
he and I, we completed our quest
but, there is a cold, painful joke that the frost shall perform in concert upon thawing toes.
“Weak!
Think deeply
let recall and that dark corridor of latent solar dreams assist you through your journey
are you not able to discern the various faculties of your soul?
Think
that minute, yet overwhelming tug
that “pull” that lingers way deep
not below
but deep
through rib cages, lung tissue, and brain regions alike
though pressures not against muscles
though they too shall persist
that ‘feeling’
blessed be!
That familiar strain
that compelling release
emotions
prompted of eras previous
in the right mind it is something righteous
that is how the spirit communicates and coveys
that is how the spirit speaks!
The spirit,
creator - reflections and derivatives
you and I
the attribute of that apparent apparition of an authoritative architecture
aka
GOD!
I speak not of such,
per se,
I speak of the reflection
when souls may annex
those that walk closer, together, are the stronger of essences
portions of my creator’s soul
and there
deep down there
that familiar tug will materialize
times-past is eventually colored divine
everyday such as those, that is when spirit speaks”.
I cannot respond.
I sit, surrounded in silence deep.
A picture of my ancestor
daddy
a macabre gleam of mines
les yeux sans visage
I sail now
through rivers of tears
submerging my being
suffocating my being
drowning my being
I feel the might to muster a word,
a greeting of sorts,
“Father, I…”
They are of many dimensions away!
I have not persisted in receiving the Lord’s gift of breath merely to squander it in efforts of trying to reach the ascended.
“Fool!
Of what futility do you speak?
The ‘ascended’ never actually rise at all
of those ‘dimensions’ that you reference
they are upon plains of existence
much like ours
in fact,
one with ours
they still walk among you”.
You speak of “oneness”?
“Solidarity”?
No!
Ha!
Do you speak of “synchronicity”?
Deliverance from the decay the spirit kept in flesh?
“No.
I speak of a realm attached to our own
an extension rather.
Can you not feel them around you?
They are disembodied from the flesh,
yet,
embodied inside of your mind and heart
emancipated from the bounds of the physical
you being ‘alive’ renders you an alien to their realm
or, at least you may believe so.
You are no more separated from those aspects of the heart as a whisper, still audible, would be from your lips
so, don’t be so foolish.
You reject that which begot you?
They are still here.
‘Separation’ is a weak concept among the divine”.
That is an actuality that I can not fathom.
A dubious concept
fiend!
I can not hear them if they speak.
I have worn my feet down to the bones
flesh bruised by snow – that frozen beauty of fallen water
that great white mass had devoured my shoes
soaking wet as me and a friend treaded miles towards a promised warmth.
Where were they to carry me at least?
I did not fall,
he and I, we completed our quest
but, there is a cold, painful joke that the frost shall perform in concert upon thawing toes.
“Weak!
Think deeply
let recall and that dark corridor of latent solar dreams assist you through your journey
are you not able to discern the various faculties of your soul?
Think
that minute, yet overwhelming tug
that “pull” that lingers way deep
not below
but deep
through rib cages, lung tissue, and brain regions alike
though pressures not against muscles
though they too shall persist
that ‘feeling’
blessed be!
That familiar strain
that compelling release
emotions
prompted of eras previous
in the right mind it is something righteous
that is how the spirit communicates and coveys
that is how the spirit speaks!
The spirit,
creator - reflections and derivatives
you and I
the attribute of that apparent apparition of an authoritative architecture
aka
GOD!
I speak not of such,
per se,
I speak of the reflection
when souls may annex
those that walk closer, together, are the stronger of essences
portions of my creator’s soul
and there
deep down there
that familiar tug will materialize
times-past is eventually colored divine
everyday such as those, that is when spirit speaks”.
I cannot respond.
I sit, surrounded in silence deep.
A picture of my ancestor
daddy
a macabre gleam of mines
les yeux sans visage
I sail now
through rivers of tears
submerging my being
suffocating my being
drowning my being
I feel the might to muster a word,
a greeting of sorts,
“Father, I…”
