To know Love,
Let love go.
To let love go,
Is to know Love,
As it is.
Pure.
To let thought go,
Of what love is,
What Love is,
Remains.
Neither coming,
Neither going,
Simply,
Being.
All ideas as to what Love is,
Including this one,
Will pass.
Love will neither pass or not.
That is to know Love or not.
********
Just another concept. lol
To all at cot wishing you all the very best As It Is.
Much Love & Many Blessings.
:o)
"To let thought go,
Of what love is,
What Love is,
Remains."
That is quite beautiful, Abs. You have a quiet and serene presence that cannot be better described than in what you have written. Your 'energy' is softly iridescent~Asi
The Dreams that Prolong Us
It is the dreams that prolong us
Rising through the layers
Of the moonlight
Streaming like breaking waves
As the world sleeps
In unwinding dreams for distant stars
And softly forgottened isles
Whispered beyond
The universe itself
Seduced
By the kiss of being
In hues that know no color
Everything beautiful
Only as one would know it
Ever shuddering
The heart's existence
As it is
In the dreams that prolong us
Gracefully
That enchantment
Of the self for the self
Ever rising through the layers
Like a breaking wave
That never ends in the moonlight
The Crescent Dream of Yellow Hand
In the wind runs the heart of the yellow hand mark
Legs so ringed
With the magic of the bluffs and plains
Painted pony of eagle feathers in its mane of long flowing hair
Dancing the medicine of many stars
Past the veils of death and life
In the long knowing of that which haunts
The very neighing breath
In the beauty of its moment upon the wind so sped
Flanks so certain of the crescenting grass as the pony rides in the silent dream away
In eternal remembrance of its forefathers
As it invades the crescent hills of all
Time left to passing canyons and hands that would bless what it knows
Drywings
Whirling in the sultry sun
The drywings
Rise into the wind
Floating like an ancient dream
Over ambient green arcades
That forever flow in unraveling life
Murmuring timelessly
In summer days
The faded grass tall and whispering as it softy blows
In fields of seraphic grace
Heaven for the knowing eye
Unquenchable beauty
No less than eternity swirling in selfless ecstasy
Of drywings
The Gatekeeper
It was raining blue trees
There would be no kiss today
Or paper sentimentals
Dedicated to the stone edges of the world
As the spider dared to peak out of its hole
But the would-be crushing blow was not as fast as the many-eyed Medusa
That should have now been on the valley floor
This spy and keeper of secrets ever watching
Which probably knew as well of the floods across the once young heart
Still heard in the distant trains and empty seashells
Buried in albums now left to dust
But the rain will end soon
And the spider-web over heaven will still be there
With its god that is not able to tell itself from what it sees
As it waits for tomorrow's dispute
Made of ancient repetitions
Gyre
The arms move through their helm unseen
Turning like the earth for the illusion of a spreading dawn
Constant as loom-like mantras
Weaving the fringes of creation in endless engines
Conjugating
Iron giants wheeling swiftly
Shifting resistance in turnpike galaxy-clouds of green rotations
The heart of the grind-organ's monotone to the fury of the veering
stars
Mechanisms of natural
And unatural laws
Belching vapors upon the stone caves
Stained and shuttering in the strenuous mood of keyboard robots
With faint dreams lost in the Plutonic tomorrow
Cubicled in particulars and automations
Muffled and waiting for the swarms that will hurry to wait
In the oily veins of the octopus-like gyre that moves rims until
whiteness is gone
The Fallen Poem
The broken arm had fallen to the ground
In that shy moment of invisibility
That the eye doesn't see
Unless one loved the branch over many summer days
Sitting upon its shoulder
Or underneath its shade
But summers expire as do the dreams that went with them
This branch that might have thought it was the only heroic thing over the fields
A stolen dream for a dreaming heart
And now a fallen poem
Picturesque even in the way that it lay
Now separate and silent
Slowly to disappear and fade away to the passing tomorrows that ever devour
Some moments to be so perfect
Yet the perfection of life is in the ever changing sculpture
As we let go of what was not ours
As my friend now lay with the grass in its mouth
Threshing
Threshing in the lake
I saw her as she bent low
Without knowing of my presence
As she lifted the water up and over her head
To fall
Against the birch background
And the cloudless sky
This nude princess with slender flanks
That causes even the water to moan
In the violet veil
And like a bird she shook her wings of dark hair
Tender in the moment of swirling atoms like a rainbow halo
And it was then that I knew the blood of remembrance
In her secrecy that would forever haunt the lakes, the forest, and me
Fading Promises
There
In the raftered loft
Unseen
Does the wind murmur the dream
Of the love
Upon the stones once stained
For the one who kept
Death's promises
Where now the grass so green does hide
The memories in time that fades
And the beating drums that once were heard
Stopped so long ago
Cyclops Particle
Awry as a particle in the vision of a cyclops
The immediacy so close to nirvana if the single cinder thought was not there
Perhaps a shooting star from the realm of the invisible
Or a moment of pre-destination
Crossing some great distance to this temple of an eye
A speck now a stone or punk-tipped glass
The rear-view mirror reflecting the oncoming end where the particle will lose all meaning
The Spider Makes a Kite
He had lingered too long
In the starry branches
Like a limb on the universe
Once outside
For now he knew
The truth of all
What world would own
As he looked in
What ideologies for a mind not there
And as far as the eyes of God could see
He knew he was more
Than even a god
A god but beliefs by mortal man
As he sat on a hill to watch the tides of life flow in and out again
As he did breathe in the moment that all is bliss
And the perfection of all does go its way chasing the thoughts that make for dreams
The ants that carry the butterfly's wings
And with his the spider makes a kite
The Violet Hour
In the violet hour
When one pauses to look at the glass of the day
Reflecting its light in the evening quiet
One only knows that all was as it was
The fractured atoms in the lustre of their choosing
And in the lust of a dream
Ever lingering
In the chambers of the heart
Knowing the white waves of wind where one would drown
In beauty
If not of love
The Faded Roses
To the faint and faded roses
I breathe drowsily
Drunk with the fragrance of eternity
Like a soft kiss upon my lips
That would be a sacrifice in my day
That path to the fields where roses are passing dreams
An autumn running
In the ambience of each moment
The trace of immortality in the echoing hollows
Forged by the edge of emptiness
Complete with unblemished knowing
No more could I ask of heaven
Ah! what beauty is heard
when joy !!!
sings out from ones soul
A true pleasure to hear you both
love rose :)
Occassionaly sunbeams slant thru this dusty old room.
Thank you for raising the shade today : )
"To let thought go,
Of what love is,
What Love is,
Remains."
Yes,,very nice abst. You can't hold on to that.
hello everyone...
i hate to disagree on such a lovey dovey thread...lol, but, holding on to anything, including a conceptual idea of what love is, is infact attaching yourself, or your thoughts, to yet another concept.
if awareness does not have any desires, then it certainly does not love in the way we as human being's love...and you cannot accurately call it love, as love is conceptual; but then, so is this 'idea' of awareness...and, if you do infact let thoughts go, concerning love, then you cannot correctly come back and say that no thoughts, are what love really is...because that too is conceptual...holding on to anything, or nothing, is not total freedom...
nice poems though...
yes star,,the word love represents nothing. Just words, just play,,, even when you hold on to "not" holding on.
The wings edge swiftly upon the wind
As the hawk dives
Like an avalanche of condensed power and certainty
A scythe with talons as sharp as time
And in an instant it crashes upon the field
With several honed movements
Unforgiving as death itself
And in the same quickness lifts back in the air
To the nearest limb
As everything is boldly surveyed
With the knowing eyes that this is the seized moment of satisfaction
The geometry beyond thought in that which is now
With wings flapping at once into the life
She looked in the mirror
And saw the face of a god
Though she had the body of a mortal
And a mind that was a passing vessel as well
Her smooth brow did not labor though over these mute points of being
As a necklace of sea-green beads were put around her neck
And the waves crashed at her feet
In paradise
Somewhere in the grassy stars
Complexity wanes
To that center no longer insistent upon time
That barnacle of black jade
Found only in illusion
As the shell of oneself washes up from the deep long tide
That once was the dream of sea-horse manes
The white glyphs
Upon the dark parchment leaves of a worn summer
Hint at the empty chrysalis that lingers
That place of no digression
Beauty that would not be otherwise
An oracle of the mystery that waits inside
Never known until that moment when the butterfly looks back as it rises past
the pyre of itself
Into the crystalline sky filled with wings
To know Love,
Let love go.
To let love go,
Is to know Love,
As it is.
Pure.
To let thought go,
Of what love is,
What Love is,
Remains.
Neither coming,
Neither going,
Simply,
Being.
All ideas as to what Love is,
Including this one,
Will pass.
Love will neither pass or not.
That is to know Love or not.
[Best poem~Abs]
Is it only ideas that seperate?
Beyond "ideas" where does One stand?
Love to all at cot,
A sunny room where dust Is,
Simply dust.
Hand I the vacumn. (lol)
The sun always shines.
Even when there is rain.
LOL
Much Love to every binary code @ cot. hehe
asi,,, your poetry is da bomb brudda man.
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