There came a day in my life when I realized that not all that I had seen was as it appeared. My vision of life was like broad strokes of paint on canvas – colors mixing together and creating shapes that held no purpose at all. Yet, they yielded beauty. It was a splendid mix of radiance and within those hues were entire spans of life, all being lived out harmoniously and with an order that I had not previously been cognizant of. Until suddenly, I was – I could see it All – every connection. It was like I was everything. I was every leaf and every tear and every cloud all at once. I could feel the heartbeat of every creature and every vertebra that moved and every wind that blew through leaves like the strumming of strings on some secret mystical instrument. And all I wanted, was to thank God. I wanted to yell it from the highest peak that I could climb, and then I realized – I Am the highest peak – I Am that I Am. And I heard God laugh in that moment. It was as if every laugh that I had ever heard and every voice I had ever listened to laughed in that laugh because All was God. And yet I was still Me – one small piece of God, finally realizing that I Am. And then We both laughed – the entire world laughed. And I picked up everything because it was mine – you see, being and having are the same thing, and so I walked through the doorway to All, and I became what I came here to become – this time around. And I wrote with a new passion and I filled pages and pages and volumes and volumes and my fingers were like lightning on the keys and it mattered not that no one ever read them. Because I was everyone, and I read every word that blazed upon the page. And it was enough that I alone knew that it was good.
~~ If you spend solid time with yourself, and you study the directions that your world shaped personality takes you, you will see that you are not of your own making. Once you take responsibility for yourself, you can retrain yourself, and become what You desire, thus casting off your shabby man-made mantle, and shine in the Light of your own radiance. ❤
I could make the poem perfect, but why would I want to? Would imperfect beings listen to a perfect anything? Can such a thing exist on this plane and be noticed? No. I speak of Imperfections. Of Fallibility. Those are the things that speak to the soul! This world is colored by its flaws, yet how desperately we try to erase them, when all else would merely be white. And who could see a thing in that?
It was in the Word that our demise was found You were skill-less in your rant Yet calculating in your approach Regurgitated flittering bits of hate Heralding in the empty love You would lastly profess It was in the swelling rage That vision finally found Me We had always been a dead thing And I Am done reviving those dry bones