Awash

Sometimes, in meditation, you get a sense of nothing much matters. That for all the hustle and bustle and all of those pressing issues and events, it is all an illusion designed to stop you from, well, meditating. It feels as if the stillness and the sense of the eternal moment is all there really is. It feels as if you have come home and you really never actually want to leave again to go back to the nonsense that is your life.

An eternal moment of stillness. An eternal moment of connectedness.

In that moment, many things seem to come together and you understand. You are offered a glimpse of eternity and of understanding and you grasp it but just for that eternal moment and then its gone again leaving behind a sense of longing. Even though its gone in an instant, that touch of eternity leaves behind its mark – an impression so to speak – on the soul. To me it is like reassurance that you matter and that our true purpose is to soar above the hustle and the bustle, the noise of arguments and discord, the urgency of living that so envelopes us and drowns us in the important nothingness and irrelevancy. To soar in the wind like an Eagle magnificently observant of the land below knowing that we can and we should be creating heaven on Earth.

soar

Touching the Emptiness from Moon whispers
Touch the emptiness
Stretching deepness
Cooling depths
Old memories
Black and white
Like old movies
Funny feelings
As if I could touch
Touch the emptiness
It’s on the edge
As if momentarily
Forgotten
Was that my childhood?
Was that really me?
Stretching deeply
To touch the emptiness
Its’ dreamlike quality
Chasing that thought
Is there a reason?
Am I all for naught?
Touching the emptiness
Building a soulful thirst
Driving onwards ever wearily
Towards the setting Sun
Yet didn’t it just begin?
Started in the sixties
Images, floating illusions
Touching the emptiness
My father has already gone
He prepares the place
Wherever that is as he
Touches the emptiness
Birth, Death, emptiness
Cyclic likes the seasons
I came from the emptiness
And there I will return
Reaching out, stretching
On the edge of my memory
Touching the edge of emptiness
Once again

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