At the Precipice of Bewilderment

At the Precipice of Bewilderment

Synchronicity, the worship of time

Temple, the worship of place

Marry the two and there is the illusion of power

Rejoice in the joyful well-being of fellow wanderers

Sympaths and Empaths all of us be

We are the Space Mother

Will-less changeless world without the illusion of magick

No crests and troughs to adorn the play-mind

How can the wish for others to be happy be a law?

Children of the Wolf, wanderers of the lawless frontier

Strung and hung to be scorched amidst the red earth of the desert

Ecstasy is merely the ignorer of horror

Longing itself is my love for the love talk,

Longing for the spontaneity of being

Armies of burning thought mount continuous assaults

Let Being and Becoming be gracefully merged in a Balance of Traveling Laughter

Take ankh-flight to wherever

Find rest in restlessness

How shall we die oh comrades?

I had a dream I ate shit

It was dog’s duty, I mean I was doing the duty of the dog

Initiation

Welcome to the Eaters of Dung

No rapturism for me

Pounding and calling according to rhythms and formulas

Paying the invisibles the fees of concordance

Making spectacles

Shows and Transactions, entertainment and business

These be dividers, mind-splitting habits

Praise godlessness

To undo what has been done is to change history and memory

Aha! We are perhaps not so chained to the past by cause and effect as it so verily seems

Oh ye symbol worshippers yoked to your symbol-chariots

Techniques are just tools

Eyes are just sensory apparatus

Eye consciousness penetrates space and time and matter and energy

Omniscience OM-nescience

Karmic eyes and Wisdom Eyes may well differ

The hot Sun powers the world and we dream of capturing apexes and zeniths

   and distilling essences and piercing the Solar Disk to enter the light-world of gods

Snakes with wings dance in the blurry worlds of possibility

Words are my only companion

We declare our divinity but no one hears or notices

Subtleties undetected ripple to towards the outer reaches of the universe

   only to reappear in other places and times

Time passes and the Body decays

We go to dusts

Alas I am wound and bound in another endless knot of undulating luck

But one thing I know here: sorrow will become joy and joy will become sorrow

The Middle Way of the Daughter of Justice

Somewhere between the extremes of life’s dreams

Somewhere betwixt all these goals and their poles

Somewhere along the strand of the speculative and the skeptical

Somewhere amidst the range of formal to informal

Somewhere beyond seeking one and not another

Indeed beyond distinction between self and other -

-          Lies the Clear, Quiet, Stillness of Equanimity

The single taste of preferenceless, referenceless balance

Heartfeathers fly as possibility unblurs into certainty

Balance adorns all the Graces

The fetterless fetters of freedom allow me to long for the comfort of duty

The Great Work is Just That

The Not-So-Great Worklessness is Just That

Yet these words seem only to enslave me and I wonder how they can be useful to others

I have scorned feigned coherence and the scheming of fitting in

Etiquette is a double-edged sword

Envious of youth and skill I limp-wander along

Taking time the only way I know