When you wake up to reality,
You will be exactly as you were before //
There will be the same amount of focus,
or no focus...
Consciousness is no hocus pocus
It smarts sharply
the pain can be dulling
The only thing that can be different
when observing loss
Is how you pay attention
The toll gates are heavy these days
and the trolls are uglier than ever...
...Whatever!
There was pain before this
There was joy before this
The only thing different
when you awaken
is your response
Ability.
You may be disabled by pain
You may be enabled by pain
There are other sanctuaries
quietly waiting for your attention
in meditative, calm spaces of your being.
How you are affected
Varies from state to state
of consciousness.
You may be imprisoned by the state of events
You may be set free by the state of events
News? Your Stated Intention
Varies by how you're called into action
...or do nothing at all.
Then what's the gain-plan?
You may never completely be released from the morrow
Unless you refrain from this day's breaking
Again to realize, see the surprise, even in reactions most fated.
*INACTION* isn't the same state as rest
There need be periods which are blessed
As much as words hurled through veils and curses.
These states of repose. These states which test our sanity
These states which test our humanity
Bring strength to face this testy testament
Of crimes and ghoulish times
Of Character
not sublime,
Of Hours not that long ago
you wished were just in jest.
No jokes allowed
amidst the grime. Muddy ash // Cruelty //
and criminal minds //
Exhaustion feedback's past red lines.
Where's the Zen of splitting hairs, the balance point
between infinitely finer wear,
Ever diminishing returns of compromise?
Lest you BE ===>> Redoing before realizing,
Lest you're blind to Reworking *without* realization,
There need be periods of replenishment.
It serves no purpose to be continually exhausted.
The mess will still be there when you awaken
The mess and mops will still be grinning. Be not mistaken!
To process that grief which wells in one's chest,
Where then is peace,
And contentment,
And even laughter? (We know of slaughter,
but laughter's a far more slippery catch these days.)
Where's the balm of humor
When hot bombs are triggered
With rage reddened & annoyance profoundly pissed?
Should you surrender your anger,
It could hardly be missed.
A sense of humor is best when people are suffering.
This sense of humor near difficult when people suffer terribly.
This PEACE POSSIBLE may only be explained
... in your own actions
... in your own families
... within smaller stages & domains,
Peace first contained & gently nourished
Peace which hasn't easily flourished
Peace which has remained malnourished.
Begin in your homes and neighborhoods and holy bedrooms.
Sweet peace, even now, still possible to maintain.
We can hardly imagine that humankind's
*SOUP*
Wasn't already scalding,
That the world's problems weren't already overheated,
Before this loss most unkind.
You're not out of the loop!
Since the Humors Of This Place Are Horribly Grim,
You're *back* where you started.
...Just Possibly More Awake And Recommitted...
Sir or Madam, the hospital of your consciousness is ready
......and waiting
.......and Nurse Not-Too-Cheerful
Is nearby with An Injection of Consciousness
For All You Would Deny.
How about stealing a kiss?
You still might fail to remember
That now (more than ever)
This NUT HOUSE
requires beauty -
harmony -
And even *BLISS*
.... The times are enough to make you sick!
Try not now to obsess on the very hatred
Which can draws us downward
into spirals
of only one room,
Or one hallway in the nuthouse.
**************************
Consciousness is never to be cracked
open
in just one way
or split asunder
by just one nut.
There are other rooms.
(There are other holy spaces.)
And sanctuaries
which quietly
are waiting for your realized attention
in meditative
sacred
spaces
of
wonder.
Letter to the Author at SoulGnosis@aol.com