These knotted guts
eject my pulsating heart,
while I wait for my welfare
to imminently crumble–
I’m lunging from my vessel.

I frantically survey for danger,
but the culprits remain covert–
I turn up empty on my basis.

But failing to subside, I wonder…
do the wires of my diagnosis
wrap me in incessant neurosis?
Or has conditioning to trauma
trained my brain to fear?

Regardless I remain engulfed
by this looming devastation,
and my neck constantly aches
from looking over my shoulder.

I’m coasting through my life,
Many chances unseen,
Perfection or failure–
I know nothing between.

I’m afraid to attempt,
Any new kind of feat,
For risk of the unknown,
Leaves my goals incomplete.

Before an honest chance,
I avoid and delay,
Then I self-sabotage,
Every step of the way.

And I’ll only engage,
If I’m sure I’ll succeed,
Never taking a chance,
So, my win’s guaranteed.

This way I’m protected,
But, I don’t dare to dream–
For I’m broadly inept,
With a low self esteem.

Of course, I’m missing out,
On any real progress,
For this fear of failure,
Never leads to success.

It seems I don't know quite how to respond,
To the pain present, within and beyond,
So, my subconscious defaults to the lead,
With habitual patterns, I proceed…
Reliant on instincts and emotions,
These primal pathways take me through motions,
Now I’m acting rash, values misaligned,
Hurting loved ones in this stressed frame of mind,
All because I’m unable to pacify,
My cortex, drenched in stimuli.

Are we only just a series of events -
a lot of dates and deeds to check off
and that says who you are? But, that
happens again and again. The ones here
now want to be here – chose to be here –
have indeed chosen and arranged
everything as it is just so. We’re all
playing roles. All showing each other
what we are.
Who will you turn to in your greatest
moment of need? They have all
betrayed you as you have betrayed
them. This is the way it’s set up for
each one to see that only One Self is
true and real. This is the only way.
So, how far will you take it, my own
heart and soul? To the ugly, bitter end
believing the programming you’ve been given?
Or, will you be what you are, rather
than repeat sleeping through reality,
and be free of the shackles of personality.

Allowing the story to be told
Along the spiral path of time
Deeper and deeper along the blooms of the rose
You keep unfolding
Coming home to yourself
the dance beckons you further
asking for your honesty, vulnerability, humility
Be brave, take the first step, journey to the bridge between the finite and infinite
to the dark fertile void of possibilities into the light of their existence
An embodiment of creation
Feeling more alive within every fold of emotion, every texture, every taste on the spectrum, every sound imaginable, smells like a field of wildflowers tickling your senses simultaneously encompassing their juxtaposition
whole and complete unto themselves
No labels
What it means to be human
To feel so deeply yet be prone to numbness
To be exposed to the elements yet have a compass to find your way back to the beating anchor that guides you
The infinite love that animates you
Allowing the story to unfold
Not always doing what you're told
Not knowing what that even is then welcoming clarity like the brightest sunrise after the darkest hour
Sometimes lost then found anew
Learning how to tell the difference between resonance and dissonance
And the balance that helps it all make sense
Using a little of each, sparingly, carefully, distilling beauty from the crazy cacophony
So many paths leading to the same destination yet only one rings true at a time
Surrendering to the wisdom
Innate, embodied
the dance goes on to a different tune
Are you willing to explore?
Do you have a hunger for more?
What drives this desire?
An unexplainable longing to be among the possibilities
A chance, an attempt, a try
Unprecedented perhaps that's why
Co-creating something new
A different perspective
A fresh point of view
Journeying within to see that you are a cosmic reflection of all that is wanting to know itself as your life, reflected back as me
Reflections in a lake
We are all mirrors for each other
Beauty unbounded
Words are limited in describing this
You merely scratch the surface of your experience
Yet they propel you like guides to the unseen realms
To see without eyes
To hear without ears
Following the music of your soul
Answer the call
Here and Now
What will you discover?

The mind makes this hand
strike this head
as if to say - See! I am here and you have to listen!
We invite all sorts of ugliness in
to protect us from who we think we are
and employ others
to help with the job
knowing nothing
What am I writing?
Doesn't matter - I am always writing
I wish to go to a place
where the mind cannot go -
where the mind does not matter
and the mind couldn’t help
even if it wanted to
Much better to let things go -
fall to sideways -
than to keep fighting
Life just goes that way anyway, right?

The mind - roving, moving -
always looking for next
Eat smoke drink blah-blah repeat
Little agitated thoughts come -
shouldn’t this - must do that
Poke, poke and prodding along
To where?
Like the poor cow - to my death
I can smell the blood
same like she could
I turn - try to turn away
from the death they bring -
eyes mad with fear - humanity’s disease
But the walls are close - so close
Didn’t we make it this way?
For security and comfort
and to keep us all moving in a straight and steady line?
A lineage of unbroken sleeping zombies
drunk on our own separated imaginings
The world you see shrinks smaller
You start to touch the edge of panic
Yet steady in the storm
and no long feel it
Yet see it go rushing past
and leave you where I am.

Yet still and I see the mind
throwing up moments
setting up forms for my perusal
wasting its time
For what?
Isness minds no time
Why some times I get hooked?
It’s just this world - no need for fear
I am free
Did you think to make me
believe I was the worst?
Ego - mind
all deceit and trickery
Yet, I see you
Will I take you again
to yet another life -
some other dream
No this time is done
This mind is set aside for no person
This mind is made for only bliss

Each day hundreds of cells die
And hundreds resurrect - those who
Compose my body, my self.
Thus, I change each moment, bit by bit
Without realisation - a continuous transformation.

Each cell that composes my body
-Living and Dying-
Is as much as heir of my existence
As any other.

A collection of all cells
Makes what I 'am'.
The thought that holds onto a desire of immortality-
Amidst a continuous flux of birth and death
Is perhaps what 'I' am.