Photo by gfs – Haleakala Sunset, Maui HI
There was a story
Told by sages
Of times
And trials
Lost to memory
Written in stone
Broken into
Forgotten sands
Such are the pages
History told
In voices
Long silent
Language unknown
Ears shuttered
Truth is not words
The best evidence
Only found
In the fires
Of mind!
Should I let the day reign upon my Spirit
Or turn my collar to the storm and wind
Weather or not our souls are protected
By love beyond the shadow of doubt
Heart to heart
There is no cure
To fires longing
Ever seeking
To know
The eyes of love
The rite of spring
Unfurled on wings
Lifted lonely aching
Barren branches
Quake to know
The wind and rain
And sun
Boughs that join
The earth and sky
Spirit holds the hand
Of life the essence
Of the dream
Rising through
A sacred cord
Photo: Morning Sunfire by gfs
In the beginning
Source said
Let there be light
In the beginning
The word was
With source
And the word
Was source
The point being
The word
Was light
And darkness
Fell on the land
Where were we
When today opened
Its door
And asked
Us to enter
Love’s season
Timelessly traced
The reason away
Turned out to wander
Alone
Summer days wanting
For winters return
While watching
Our lives
Through
Rear view mirrors
While the sun
Courses days
Through our sky
Photo: Winter Stream at John Boyd Thatcher State Park by gfs
Wake to the dream
Fall into forever
Footsteps melt
Into the morning hush
Of a new fallen snow
Places return|
Rounds we recall
In moments
Moving the spirit
When sunrises
Set in the dawn
what memories
live inside
these words
what feelings
lie hushed
under a morning
of new fallen
snow
slipping
through icy fingers
melting
in her mind
the way Spring’s
swollen streams
wash hilltop
tumble stones
into greening
valleys
maybe he
held her gaze
too long
in dreams
crystal eyes
wide open
where the heart
yearns to hold
onto colors
faded to black
and white
between sheets
of rain
and thoughts of
coming home
Photo: https://wallpaperstock.net/purple-sky-fog-sun-trees-snowy_wallpapers_40503_1920x1200_1.html
standing
at a precipice
we felt
the earth move
and there
among the clouds
we dreamed
things that mortals
seldom dare
unearthly visions
sank beneath the haze
sand slipping
into an ocean
of memories
lost in time
light filtering
to a seabed
waves (of emotion)
still flowing
even as the storm
has passed
and sails billow
again (reaching)
before a fair wind
Kahlil Gibran states in “The Prophet” that beauty is eternity gazing at itself in the mirror, only you are eternity and you are the mirror. This is the continuing paradox of consciousness. Is the universe conscious of itself, or is it conscious of itself by seeing itself through our eyes? I’m taken back by the common hours, the days I spend in support of myself, family, and the things that surround me, realizing how temporal all of this is, and yet how important it remains to being. For without it, there would be only void – paradox indeed! Ray Kurzweil and others tell us that the world around us, is a singularity, a construct of our biological computer, where what we see – perceived light reconstructed from the tuning mechanism of our eye, into a construct of the world – realm – around us. The same can be said for sound, for smell, for touch, and for taste. Who is to say that what I see as green, you see as yellow, what I smell as mint, you smell as sage, and what I hear as water rushing you hear as wind. Shall we believe we are simply a biological computer and consciousness is nothing more than the sum total of a collection of elements and electrical discharges that begins at our first breath and ends with our last?
Then there is The Matrix, a construct of intelligence far beyond our own, something with a closer understanding of consciousness so it / they are able of manipulating our state of being, our thinking, into abdicating our free will, and handing over all our free energy to them. Carlos Castaneda and Don Juan talk of the The Flyers, reminiscent of Dragons, a Quetzalcoatl who controls the destiny of humanity.
What I can most assuredly state is we live in a consensus reality. Keep this in mind every time you listen to the news, stand up for your flag, or bow your head in prayer – Are you making a conscious decision, or are you assuming a consensus? Had I been raised in New Delhi instead of New York, my consensus reality would be far different than what it is today. So the question is – In consciousness do you question? Do you ever question? Do you question everything?
Consensus reality can be easy, and it can be very dangerous. Any behavioral scientist will tell you that mammals, including humans, are relatively easy to train, to program, in a sense, to carry out tasks with little or no interference from reason or will. We live in a free will universe for certain, and the reality is we are all acting on our own free will, except that will is easily co-opted, once we decide we are “this” or we are “that” (insert label).
Jung talks about our Shadow Self. If we are to believe that we are more than elements miraculously merged into a thinking machine, we have to delve into thought, and the idea that even as light casts a shadow, then it follows that thought, as energy, casts a shadow as well. Alan Watts tells us that we can’t see our self, we cannot take our eyes out of our head and look back at our self. Movies might be as close as we can get, but who can stand seeing their bare- naked self on a screen. (Except for selfish narcissism, in my experience, most people do not like to be filmed). Yet our shadow self, is where darkness follows behind us, the part of our being – ego if you like – that haunts us every waking hour, gives us headaches, the common cold, and a thousand other maladies, we define as illnesses, not accepting them as shadows.
Consciousness sets us free or haunts our lives, our being, without it all of these words are just ink stains, are just wind blown autumn leaves, yet metaphors make the argument ever more certain that consciousness may only be a paradox to those who question it. Otherwise, thought is simply a means to an hollow, nihilistic end, a shadow lengthening in the twilight, and dust returning to dust.
She’s looking away
into a far sky
across a canyon of hope
To a place
where she knew
he would remain
even as he stood
by her side
Her dreams
and their dreams
Melting in ice falls
of tears
falling like rain
Knowing the leaving
was coming too soon
and knowing how
love was forever
As rivers flowing
and sails
on its oceans
searching
for passages home
There is no distance
in the heart
she said
and agreed
time’s return was
too soon
Memories wait
forever unfolding
new lands beheld
in the sun
and there
hearts will keep
between sheets of rain
the presence returning
in reflections of light
in his eyes
Photo by gfs – Near Chandler, AZ 2017
grandfathersky 