your dreams away even as your just remembering them, just as you begin to see the edges of this world, the light reflecting off edges and shapes that will become familiar and solid. the truth is made of cotton candy and even the walls are just oiled paper wrapped around the thought of separation. im groggy and confused this morning, the last thing I remember was the book getting heavy in my hands and the light too bright, then a noise as the alarm was pulsing from my backpack. the useless phone, now just a clock and camera, stuffed in the outer pocket. the act of getting up and pushing the dismiss button, left all my dreams behind. the dark world of 4:30 evolves like a lampshade waiting for the light. I haven’t felt the pull to meditate, my evenings end early, I sleep through the night and write little, I am feeling life, not aware of it, not realizing anything, just in the moment examining nothing. it feels like im waiting for a train at the station, running late or im just too early, patiently doodling, reading, wandering the confines, rereading the unchanging schedules of arrivals and departures. but I don’t have a ticket or idea of where to go. maybe im supposed to meet someone, not go somewhere. it would be nice to meet somebody, its kind of a lonely place though its jammed with nervous and tired people, none of them speaking a language I know. none of them able to see me or I them , just cameos of connections, eyes washing over a sea of bodies, each in its momentary tableau, a slice of the life in this instant exposed to me. where it came from, the world that grew into this, where it will go and change and end, a mystery. just in this moment, we are together, all sharing the same physical space, actors together, lines rehearsed, cues ready, the cameras focused everywhere. I feel the life movie rolling, the direction offstage and on, all the eyes intent, the lights sharp, the shadows dim and fuzzy. where am I in this world, this life the only moment I exist, I miss the connection from anywhere to here to anywhere else. I disappear in the cracks and the fade outs, there is just now, I respond from the knowing the awareness of the unchanging experience, the all seeing consciousness, its not me, there never was a me, just the simple being, watching being feeling the exquisite pang of longing granted its release. I know where the dreams go, the well of unformed thought, the river of ceaseless motion, the ocean of existing, the little mind sends the desire and the images and feelings and sensations arise all the music of the creation, the orchestration of all the instruments and their harmonies and dissonance, all from the score set before them, none can strike a note or a beat except it is written and brought forth unbidden, where the musician diverges that too is plotted and woven intricately and without a pause into the notes everywhere played at once. each instrument plays untouched, unstudied, a coda to the cosmic dance, the music of the spheres, the waltz of the blue Danube, the river itself, the drama of the world is music to the unseen forces weaving every note endlessly.
in this religion of existence, we believe completely, nothing is held back, no part untouched, we delve into desire without any resistance, without any reserve, the world awaits impatiently and our feelings are fully engaged, the truth is the sharp pain and pleasure, the everyday stuff that makes life real and total. the movie never stops and the dream within a dream goes deeper everyday. losing my religion is my new twist, my pathless path, gateless gate. im finding nothing out and using that space for dumping the useless trash of my dogma and human mental disease, though im not sure where the new reality begins and the distortion ends, I trust in the spaces between things, the lessening, the losses, the unfamiliar territories that expand and contract around me. in the brown world the roads wander without maps and the ways to et places seem obscurely unrealized, I remember knowing where things were and where I was going but no more, no more knowing, just being where things move around and wonder if its me or them that’s actually in motion. im sitting in my car at the light I suddenly think I am going backwards as the car next to me pulls forward, I am tossed through the mirror of the empty mind and travel backwards through the mirror, down the rabbits foot into the hole of reason and set things straight, where even the sun cant shine, and I accept that for real, for what is as the light sits green and I cant find the clutch or the gearshift. sometimes the light is shining on me. other times I can barely see, what a long strange trip its been. the sixties never ended, but I had a long nightmare that kept coming back. who I am is not the question, the answer is everyone, thoughts are the jailers command and im sitting in a cell with electrodes all over my head., my feet in a pail of water, the pain of belief etched on every inch of flesh. what more could one ask for even as I hear the caged bird cry.
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