Does the Soul Have Sex?

The truth is there, waiting to be revealed.
If you put it in a box, and open it,
What do you get?  Nothing.

The truth is revealed, wearing an Emperor's new clothes.
If you put it on, then go walking down the street,
What do you get?  Arrested.

The truth is here, like a large loaf of bread, 
     asking to be eaten. 
If you break pieces of the truth,
     then pass it to each person around the room,
What do you get?  Crumbs. 

     ...Crumbs on the floor of understanding...

The truth is discovered, hiding between spaces 
     between quasars, between stars.
If you go between to measure the truth,
Then go in between (in between) once again, 
What do you get?  

You get closer to the truth
     but never can quite encapsulate it ..

There's always a sacred space surrounding truth.
Men and women meet in truth's sacred hollows,
Hold court in truth's fabulous foyer.

     Men want to maneuver truth to the bedroom
     Women want to dissect truth in the kitchen.

But truth in fact resides in every space of the house
Even swept under the rug and stored in the attic,
The garage, under the sink, in master bathrooms
Where mirrors and toilets and sinks 
Remind us of the changing truth of the body.

In our house, we've unraveled the truth and shared it.

My grandfather was an atheist and said
That the rolls of toilet paper were like miniature Torah's.
We've had truths which served us for the moment,
Then were disposed of once their usefulness was gone.

I replied wouldn't it be grand
If we could eliminate waste from our thoughts
As easily as we did from our bodies—

To hold woven pieces of silk to tops of our heads,
To pull out toxic gunk, all that wasted potential?
Grandpa snorted. "There's no shit between your ears, boy!"
But as he chortled I felt unease. 

     ...How would I know..?

If truth is bright and shining, could it be contained
In an aluminum can with an EZ pull top..? 

     ...Can I bury it for the winter..?

Like light, 
Truth streams through our hands;
Cannot be held, grasped or contained.
If you try to imprison a butterfly
You only mar magical dust on its wings
You only cripple its flight of pollination
To the open dreamlike honesty of flowers.

Like beauty,
You cannot hoard the truth;
Its light and luster are shining brightest 
     when shared with others.
Truth has no final dwelling place
     or fancy jewelry box. 

If we are lucky, it visits long enough 
To makes us seem rich in awareness.

Like sand forming pearls 
     on an isle of thirsty souls,
Truth lodges in our hearts 
     to form necklaces of pearls,
Pearls for six billion planetary bodies...
 
    —You can't really eat pearls—

Steamed, fried, baked, defrosted or sautéed, 
They still glisten in that opaque way,
Catching the light and throwing it back.

 We may throw out the truth, even as life preservers,
But cannot be responsible for truth being held
Or when it returns to us 
	On some stormy, sea-swept day,
	Embellished and embroidered by the awareness of others.


We're on this little boat called the planet
Huddled with the refugees of kindness,
Hurtling through the dark blue ocean void of space,
Milky with the light of millions of stars.

When we die, clutching our jewels of knowledge,
We shall realize the truth of consciousness.

Gems reflect experience,
Priceless emeralds and diamonds
     represent facets of being.  Shining. 
Shining into all we are .... Shining into infinity 

Here the beggar and the billionaire
Are one and the same, the prince and the pauper,
Shining from a glistening core of molten light
Where their soul, brighter than a thousand suns,
Reveals a truth never quite grasped during their lives.

I am blinded by the truth of this life
     and might rather pay my bills 
     and drive my insignificant car.

I wonder, what will really matter
After the final supper is eaten,
The last tank filled with fleeting fossil fuel?

	Holy truth!
I can't contain it, for in truth
	this life contains me. 
	You see,

We all share this space of truth,
Can never quite possess it, possess each other,
Possess our lives. Truth, like knowledge,
Is practically useless until freed ... as we bump up into it,

Truth changes depending upon the lightening of our eyes,
	   The quickening of our heartbeat 
	Our motion in the night,
Doing that cosmic jiggle to a universal groove.

Malleable, flexible, moving out of boundaries, 
Capable of changing form, truth is the ultimate diet food,
As the more we are filled with clarity,
The lighter we will become.

	Becoming lighter
I see that the whole truth 
     and nothing but the truth
Is larger than my needs. In truth,

I don't need or want to encompass everything
	like some all-seeing, all-knowing God,  

Nor need I be that large or so knowing
     
The larger that these rooms will seem to grow
The larger pieces of truth will expand, and,
The larger heart of humanity will lodge in this household
Where art, beauty and camaraderie are blessed and rest forever.

     ...I need only for you to be here with me...

	The greatest sex
	Is when my consciousness dances lightly

		...At the portal of your awareness...

     We merge our hearts,
     our souls and our knowingness

	To fertilize these strong wet wings of awakening

Bursting through
     and waiting to take flight...

			Your body of consciousness 
			              is the sexiest 
			              I've ever seen

Fully present, in delight 
  and even in sorrow 

We spin into finer and finer 
  truths of ourselves

The silk of our consciousness forming a cocoon
     From which we will someday break open

	And fly away together, 


	Freed.