the contour of the inner experience

the contour of the inner experience, which way the lounge faces and at what height and angle, and its only in the most special positioning that any thing can be realized for the predilections and preferences are in full command. im incomplete without my pillows and yoga mat, the lighting just so and incense and candles waxing slowly in the unsullied atmosphere of subtle sanguinity . the raga sutra softly drifting in the air, now i am ready, now is the time of our contentment and cushioned surrendering. here is the final frontier of awakening practiced. i sleep like a log and mutter briefly as the darkness at 3 am wakes me, the utter silence of time and space without perception, i get up in the unchilly air and step into my sweats, there was a time i would be thinking of my predawn run up the hills, as i prepare a morning brew, now i just hanker for the java my jones a palpable force. one cup two raisin toasts with PB, i sit and peruse the morning internet. like some junkie with his fix my body struggles to both sleep and wake at the same time. im not a good resleeper so this is the state of existence, allowing the waking consciousness to exist even before there is a thought of light in the sky. i know im violating all the prerequisites of true enlightenment, not sleeping all night reading, writing, feeling the life of the missing man the endangered species the last of the midnight ramblers, i dont have a place or car or a life but the full moon sets slowly in the dying night and the stars finally appear knowing their moment upon the stage is brief and quickly faded. i breathe the night going the day coming and i with it a lone, undetermined but for my habits still loosely pulling this body along. what matter this elusive capture, this marching to a drummer darkly, i have no strings but i dance as the master sings.children have no such answers but live a life that is so in peril yet we cannot save them from this nor hurry them forth. this life we live is precious and has no equal in the universe, we are given the key and are left to our own devices to open the door, as long as we want we are free to ignore the truth and dive into the drama and forget the dharma, but someday somehow the patterns shift the door sits like a looming obelisk and none can find a way around its shadow, even the eyes of the flowers stare into my soul and the light that is not captured by the earth is filling my eyes with joy, a million flowers bloom and the waterfalls of heaven are pouring down upon me. this life this wonderful world is mine and no matter who knows it nothing changes the journey or its rewards and sacrifices, being one being and not somehow part of one but all of everything is the only truth and emptiness has no hold nor does a void open before me, just the endlessness of existence like a light without a source shining everywhere.