Dance of the Bodhisattva

The flowers arose in time that is incalculable,

When the winter winds seemed to bring misfortune,

And the days of the elderly were crowned,

With delicate violence and vegetarian ideals

As the forms of the east danced with the seasons,

I remember being so ever much there

Wanting nothing yet seeing all,

And bringing to conviction the eternity of the real sun

As time tames to dreams the scepter of man’s mind,

The seasons are fewer and a few more harsher

The world somehow is lesser perceived

The trees at night howling softly at the moonlight

It seems like a darkness came to engulf the universe

Like a new spirit was born to twist the fate of the everlasting

Later alone I would come to see,

That it was no spirit but I that changed tune

I dance and I dance upon the waters of wonderland,

Like a magic fairy spinning the wanton dreams of forgotten heroes

I wail at the morning moon in degenerate eroticism,

Asking my heart to come reveal herself

The eye was made to look alone outward,

Into the trap-lands of colorful delirium

But could there be something that was free of change?

Some real everlasting thing that looked within for eternity

Soon I turned toward what lay inside

There was like a ghost hiding beneath memories

A something smaller than the smallest of things,

And yet expansive beyond the measures of perception

I turned and I saw that the world is a conjuring,

A conjuring that lit up itself with no conjurer

Into the light came the salted sardine of my dreams,

And disappeared into the blazing fire of presence

The world is a magic delusion of time,

And the ages of morality have brought us to kneel

Before the menial fallacy of death and her sisters,

Begging for a kiss more of life everyday

But what I never saw is that life’s not what it seems,

Not an endless play of survival and struggle

Life is another little drop of ink,

On the ever expanding canvas of ‘I Am’

And the dance rages on into the dark night

Of drudgery and depression

Until the sun rises,

Forever never to set,

In the heart of my heart

Screamjack

Bedtime

The impairment of our minds will open us to the freedom of our souls. The destruction of the articulate structure of memory will show us the simplicity of a life with no foundation. The suffering created by our struggle for purpose will reveal to us the beauty of purposelessness. The endless agony of our contracts to discipline will purge us of maturity. The emptiness of our deaths will bring us back to childhood. The weakness of our limbs will teach us how to fly. The hurt of our broken hearts will mend our arrogant beliefs. The deeds of our sin will birth righteousness. The limitations of our creed will teach us to be better citizens of the universe.

The need to break the norms of the day is fueled by the desire to have new norms. Art is not bettered by changing the paints and the brush that dance on canvas but changing the eyes that behold the light. The white light of reality that comes to the tired seeker moves through tiny crevices of openness of a weary mind.

We are creatures of blood because we are creatures of time. We are creatures with eyes because we are creatures of light. But creatures last as long as time does and time lasts as long as space does and space lasts as long as he who is beyond space hibernates dreaming of rollercoasters connecting galaxies.

We need to strive as long as we need to move from one point to another. When we realize that all points are contained within ourselves, where can we go away from ourselves? Can there be some other point to reach? What treasure lies for the seeker at the end of time? What treasure can be there for one beyond the discovery of oneself? Then why wait for the end of time? Why not look inside now and see the end of the world? The world is born and therefore it must die. But it is born from something and eternally dies to that same something. What is that something? You hold yourself dear to yourself more than anything else. Without that sweet Iness, could this world be conceived? Dance in that empty inside of your eternal infinity. The world will disappear forever and the inconceivable magic of the endless I will come and kiss your dreams goodbye.

Good Night,

Screamjack