Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Benjamin Clarke Feb 2021
The time has come, let’s meet
Pensively, I approach my seat
Legs cross, arms down, I ground
On earth, origin of life and sound

Pain awaits, through a kingdom of gates
Wall upon wall, separates
The only way to get where I must go
Is to wade and move against the waters flow

I shiver, I shudder, a nasty feeling
The dark road ahead has me reeling
It’s asking me to slowly let go
I cry out, I don’t feel ready for you to show

I fluctuate, in and out, out and in
The first layer of discomfort starts to dim
My stomach is in knots, organs turning
My heart is alight, and softly burning

The energy in my being starts to drain
As I experience the beginnings of my pain
Years and years I’ve lived with no emotion
Now I’m in a landfill of hurt with no potion

The sting begins to penetrate my chest
I lose my will, my speech, this is my quest
I feel a clarity, cold, raw, and pure
A dismissed child, I must know him to cure

In hysterics, I run back to safety
I can't experience your full grace lately

There are too many pits to explore in one day
Right now I’m opting to escape, hide, and play
Until I am ready to touch this truth, so grey
A pain that is near, but also so far away
Approaching and connecting to pain is a life long journey. I'm just starting to learn how to do it, but it's remarkable how conditioned our bodies are to avoiding pain and discomfort. Keep sitting and keep practicing.
low poetry Feb 2021
in
out

deeply inhale
thoroughly exhale

in
out

fully in
hold for a five sec
five
four
three
two
one

slowly exhale
hold deeply for two sec
one
two

inhale
exhale

welcome
it’s your attention
leave you both
stone the bear Feb 2021
from the deep depths of hell.
she didn't belong here;
she said she accidentally fell.

She attempted to leave
but that's the decision of fate.
she continued to wade in the fire
daydreaming of the big pearly white gate.
start of something
Chad Young Feb 2021
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.
Insights
stone the bear Feb 2021
such a tragic little mess
no matter how hard it got
she continued to do her own very best.
start of a poem i haven't finished yet
Chad Young Feb 2021
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".
Blah, huff, huff
Chad Young Feb 2021
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.
Sitting
Traveler Jan 2021
The blue sky is my canvas
Until the canopy of the night
Then my brushstroke
Become comet tails
An astroid field of flight

No language in my dream
No limits of the tongue
My flights of mindfulness
Has only just begun
Traveler 🧳 Tim
Next page