, the very whisper of sensation in the heart, this is the devotion of the senses, where every sound, every vision of color and shape, each touch rough or soft, the waft of scents left and drifting in the sullen moistness. i am become one being yet i am still this separate organism, so close to the creation, so sense loving and desiring to be aware through these vehicle of pleasure. in my psychic, in the connection to the being, there is no sensations, just connection, and nothing more could ever be wanted for in that connection i am complete, there is no other, no need, no object to be. what is lost is any sense of self, any operation beyond oneness. there is no space or time or separation. yet as i communicate from the small self to my Self as the being there is this lover and beloved becoming one that is prolonged and filled with brilliant joy and almost a madness of magical unreality that is the delusion knowing it is mad beyond caring as the love flows like honey melting the space between us and then that is liquid and gone in the instant of perfect devotion and no sense remains within the unending ocean of being where and when fled and washed away like stains on a silken garment, disappearing into the wind and sky. who is this writing, as i am filled with love and gratitude to be here knowing what is not possible and being that regardless and more and more, yet impossibly connecting to every loving heart and knowing the ways of love to become truth where life has blocked its path,in a billion ways it is flowing through the world one to the next to the next as all are connected unknowing in the synthesis of being the enrapturing of lifes true nature filling every bit of everything like rivers beyond mountains pouring continually fevered and rushing to the eternal depths of the oceans covering the universe in stillness and silence.
No comments:
Post a Comment