Contrived Control~

All is a subtle dream-dance of passing forms, yet human eyes perceive only the shape of things~

A deep and dark sadness consumes the heart which yearns for the fantasy of a secure, solid, unchanging creation~

Life’s constant movement dissolves the perceived pleasure of contrived control, as security’s illusion once again steals the light of what is “called” faith.

No luminescence lights the empty, dark and hallowed halls of hope’s false promises and the Universe or God is indifferent to the small and petty seemingly separate self called “I”~

So small and fatally fragmented, the actor’s script of self becomes and his image, ideas, concepts and beliefs wear thin with no audience to applaud a false facade~

Once again he stands naked and alone in a house of mirrors, diligently dancing with self created demons~

Stripped of any identity to prop up an impermanent pattern, he becomes the All which he All Ways was~

Robbed of any hope of stability, he is saturated in the Divine Knowing that he knows not anything, that nothing can truly be known with the mind and that he may quite well be… No-Thing at all~

In that unknowing and all in one deep breath “he” is annihilated and becomes the everything that he always was~

Copyright © Satprem 2012


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