Love is an existence, not a reaction, not an activity.
It is not a thought, or an emotion. – A.H. Almaas
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It is not an easy thing
The writing of these words
There is no effort of trying
Flowing from whence they come
To where they goI am busy with a thief
That would steal them
That scoundrel is a constant irritation
My vigilance prevents stray thoughts
So, he is also a blessingThe writing of these words
Is not an easy thing for me
I am still
And cannot stop the lovingIn that room
But not in that time
In that room
But not in that place
In the endless loving
That will not stop
That cannot stop
The endless loving
Moves on and on
Through and throughI am here
In the great ruin
It is making of meA thousand times
I have reached out
And touched the truth
Each caress a new devastation
I am never prepared
To see such beautyIt is not an easy thing
Sitting in this room of ruin
Where the departed remain
Each tear and smile over the years
Continues its work
I am the victim
In this lovingO, poor creature am I
Spilling tears of gratitude and joy
My trust runs deep
I can’t help not to
I am too vulnerable
To the startling beauty
And fierce compassion
I have no will
To resist the ruiningI awoke on the cross of the world
Every where I look
Death and horror and violence
Are dancing
Cheek-to-cheek, hand-in-hand
With love and beauty and joy
It is beyond pain
Beyond ecstasyIt is not an easy thing
My body is a three year old child
With a leg taken by a shell of hatred
And eyes blinded by the shrapnel
Of ethnic cleansing
My heart a fine filigree
Of radiant luminous gold
Illuminates the loving
Beyond this violent tragedy
Where majesty blooms
Beyond my comprehension
In a field of skulls and bones
Mothers and daughters
Fathers and sons
Every moment in this boundlessness
Is not an easy thingIt is the only thing
Moving on
Into the next moment of ruin
As life eats
And renews itself
And the loving
Does not stop
Cannot stopJ Harper
Image – Creations by Dawn
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darkness beyond night
emergence
a precipitated full nothingness
a pregnant pearly point
a love feast
I offer
my precious tender parts
you make of them a satisfying meal
in the world of lies
a river of love wine
empties itself
onto a kaleidoscopic palate
here
heart’s depth
reveals endless fathomless
true nature
Always
Love is an existence, not a reaction, not an activity.
It is not a thought, or an emotion. – A.H. Almaas
Here is something I don’t understand
often love carries a brand
Circle K or rocking bar
defining whose or what we are
A burn on the hip; a name off the lip
possessiveness and ownership
Some confine love to the head or the bed
and try to improve it with something they’ve read
Many believe that love can be given
to and from it others feel driven
Do you think we pick and choose
that love is something we can use
Something earned and often planned
subject to payment on demand
When love’s a commodity traded around
it’s no fucking wonder it can’t be found
It can’t be given or sent to a friend
those thinking this are around the bend
Our minds will never figure love out
the paradoxes keep it in doubt
Love is more a taste or a flavor
making our life something to savor
The seers and sages down through the ages
philosophers, prophets, and even the mages
Say love is the very fabric of life
it can’t be divvied up with a knife
It’s finer than silk or gossamer wings
penetrating even the densest of things
This includes you and certainly me
and it isn’t subject to any decree
Love is the Life, blood of the soul
complete in itself, making all things whole
Swelling the chest, melting the breast
the heart’s beloved wandering guest
A bee to the flower, a moth to flame
blessing all with only one name
O! that the selfish, lonely and cruel
would come and steal this precious jewel
The alchemy of this hoarded treasure
transforms a man of any measure
The strong go weak; the powerful meek
the lamb and the lion dance cheek to cheek
Revelers bathe in liquid moon shine
hearts are drunk on rosewater wine
Drunkards are dancing; children are prancing
wounds and hearts the Guest is lancing
The beat of the drum; the flute and its hum
sweetens us up like a ripened plum
Love cascades in a quiet crescendo
opens the door and enters the window
Love is an ester flooding the room
making us all a bride and a groom
No one is spared; nectar is shared
more and more bosoms are being bared
The heart is birthing; constantly mirthing
the mystery, IT is unearthing
Flickering light; darkening night
curiosity quickens the heart’s delight
The night is afire, a joyous choir
an ecstatic dance within this pyre
The fire dies down, we don a green gown
deciding to take this party to town
Smiles on our face, we spill from this place
letting the children set the pace
We make a great noise, disregard poise
and giggle at all our conduct annoys
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker
will never again be our heartbreaker
Love is no longer tied to a thought
or seen as something that must be sought
Love is what we’re never without
regardless of all we’re bitching about
So I hope these words in part convey
Good God! I forgot what I started to say!!!
Logos, in ancient and medieval philosophy and theology, the divine reason that acts as the ordering principle of the universe.
Right here and now, one quanta away, there is raging a universe of active intelligence that is transhuman, hyperspace dimensional, and extremely alien. What is driving religious feeling [today] is a wish for contact [with that] Other. – Terence McKenna
I love mankind; it’s people I can’t stand. – Charles Schultz
Politicians are interested in people. Not that this is a good thing. Fleas are interested in dogs. – P. J. O’Rourke
The first and last thing demanded of genius is the love of truth.-Goethe