Look here get this
Look there get that
Look at it and it looks you back
Look for it and it looks you blind

that everything you see
you had to put it there to find

you are not the first man
to take off my clothes,

but you are the first man
to see me naked while
my clothes are still on.

I see, breathe and
feel my heart
breaking a thousand times a day
I keep silence all through the day, the night
but when I go to sleep on my bed,
I remember each broken piece
like a still fresh bleed
Depriving me from night's peace
this is my sleep disease
All these heartaches control my night dreams
They won't cease till I cease.

I might see you

yes, I see it
no, its got to be from the smoke
I know, it does make for some great sunrises and sets
oh, can you hear the cattle mooing this morning?
makes for peaceful coffee time...

Brian Hill - 2020 # 273

Rays were made to connect us
Sometimes the clear light ain't always perceptible
So I hope my smile bright and welcoming
And the radiance in my chest can be felt
By my people caught in the matrix,
With no means of helping themselves
Binded in a boundless nature,
That can only be expressed through polarities
To realize That, beyond the mind,
Beyond the grasp of conception
Most of us don't got the skill,
We stuck and condensed intellectually
Taking the individual literal,
I'm in a box and you edged in
Both with no sense to see our perspectives non-separate
Though maybe different, both desiring in particular
But in surrender all desires fulfilled infinitely
To let go is to have it all in the law of antithesis
Similar to how emptiness is bliss
But not in a rational sense
Its more in depth and intimate,
In a self unlimited...
But not to take away from the Beauty and Goodness
The Light that's healing to the touch
The breath of Life un-constricted
That tranquil solitude,
All friction of egos at a distance
A state of union, crossroads of the Gnosis and seeker
Alchemical wedding, Krishna and Radha, Shakti and Shiva
Totality, divine pride, picturing myself as the deity
Expedient means in tantrayana, the highest of vehicles,
Now all I have to do is hold the door for my people

The thin glistening needle threads
back and forth,
back and forth.
As the black thread slowly tangles in a knot

It twists and turns through each circle,
creating a lump in the center,
stoping the artist in their track,
forcing them to ponder on the black thread.

Should they continue?
Or should they stop,
cut the string and restart,
unwind new thread,
And strain their eyes again?