And within these layers is that one layer, the space between thoughts, the meditative silence where we can regain our balance, our purpose and live whole some life. A life of an awareness that give us an anchor which will stop us from drifting away.
(From Songs of the Mist – Page 10)
So you see, son, it’s our duty to do what we are destined to do in life, and do it despite obstacles and doubts. It is our nature to be and do and it is our inner self that lifts us up after a fall as a friend does. Now when you cross the barriers, you must withdraw your ego, senses, and desires; to continue what you have been doing, surrender to the sea, withdrawing all that was there around you, within you as the tortoise does. Just be in the silence of being, and merge in the eternity that is around you. And the eternal sea will, wave upon wave, change your individual self into universal consciousness.
Death is not the destruction of your body or the flowing stream, but the merging of your dreams, desires, sorrow, and anger into an eternal calm—a deep sigh that echoes an eternal calm of eternity. O Ganga! That is OM.”
But then we forget that flying alone is not the freedom, the colors of being but the essence of our soul lies in belonging… in flowers of love.
Because in the end, the reality lies in the nature of love rather than the logic of mind…
LOST IN EMPTINESS
Entangled, wet and submerged
In crashing waves, the ocean scent
The sea waves
Think, play, sifting sun and sand
Like the fingers of my hand
Pressed against the darkness
That was long time ago – a sunset
I sieve the destiny off my inner self
Trying to find, where I am going
In which fabric of cosmic design,
I color the threads
And reality dawns;
The whole life is nothing
Just a preparation of death.
Extricating my self
Off the foams that froth the listless beach
I got up and walked, leaving footprints
To fend for themselves.
I walked, and walked
All along the sea
Looking for the promised emptiness of light
Wondering all the way,
If it was also looking for me…?
Life in living is more of driftwood
Than a flowering plant
Knowing no roots
Belonging no one
Lost in the emptiness
As memories lose their meaning
In becoming words, turning
My pain into poetic shell
A darkness to hide within
Where windows do crack open sometimes
To another darkness
Of knowing nothing else than questions
Have nothing to say
Where you come from?
Where you are going?
Stay – Live – and be the Dead