"All the world's a stage we pass through." - R. Ayana

Friday, 7 May 2010

- inkarnation -

- inkarnation -

doth the hermit sing to cabbages and the mighty king

Top Hat by you.

The past is filled with bright distractions, colours, furies, brash bold actions, recapitulated fractions of forgotten rhyme and dance
Many potentates have scattered all the things that really mattered, killed all dreams of love and splattered life upon their warlike lance
We wonder at their nomenclature, pondering the fallen stature of heroic legends, rapture in the glaze of youth’s romance
Their names are signals oft revealing patterns in the world and sealing fate and fortune in unreeling visions of exuberance
Though their storied tales are thrilling all these men are tyrants killing any foolish being unwilling to bow in full obeisance
Feet of clay and hearts of iron, leaders on a quest for Zion cannot help but always try on costumed robes of state and dance
Through the dreams of others’ dreaming, deaf to children’s fearful screaming, laughing as the tears are streaming while they preen and laugh and prance
Victorious they’ll be proclaiming all their deeds are right explaining god is with them as they’re maiming other mothers’ sons like ants
Victories are of their making, potentates are always taking credit for the endless breaking waves of luck’s deliverance
Failure is another’s doing, not the choice of he eschewing all the karma he’s accruing; all defeats are merely chance
Ignorant of all he’s brewing, every life he’s blithely chewing, every deed his hands are doing while he grasps and pries and pants
Enjoying all the stark sensations as he sunders peaceful nations, revelling in protestations or an elder’s remonstrance
As long as power’s tide is flowing power mongers will be sewing seeds of death amidst the flowing eddies of time’s happenstance
Lost to love they’re on a mission of blind groping acquisition, seeking no end or remission in a bully’s brutal stance
When the world’s on silver platters set before them all that matters is the next soul torn to tatters by the anger in their glance
They cannot bear the winds of change that set a boundary to their range, regarding protest weirdly strange; mindless bleating thoughtless rants
When any wish of theirs is thwarted enemies are drawn and quartered, all their families are slaughtered in their humble home or manse
If any raise their heads to ask ‘why are you set upon this task?’ the killer ape will simply bask in shrieks of sheer sibilance
Even when their rapine plans and all unsatisfied demands are met they still maintain their stands against love’s sweet dalliance
Warriors can only rule while others choose to be their tool or play the role of holy fool waiting for deliverance.

Adam's Bones, Eve's Flesh by centraxis.

Only when their hearts are beating in the momentary fleeting end of days while priests are bleating out their hopeless chants and cants
When the future that they’re meeting is an endless nothing greeting all man’s prideful dreams and eating up all hopes of endurance
Then their minds reach for another, drift to a forgotten mother, sister, father, cousin, brother – all the love that life still grants
Even to the foulest sinner, crier, grinner, loser, winner, all are one when faced with inner light that sears the sheaths of trance
When the blinding scales are lifted from one’s eyes and truth is sifted through the sieve of sight that’s gifted in a grace of assurance
Every act and fact and fraction, each and every small inaction is a choice of will’s enaction; nothing can be accidence
Every thing you’ve loved or hated is a dream that you’ve created only to be populated by the ones you’ve demonstrated you required to be sated in a timeless loving mated to your wilful and self-fated, purblind, deafened, armour plated, rushing greedy saturated questing for reassurance.
The Tree of Life is all forgiving, growing, twisting, turning, living, testing every soul it’s sieving - matrices of confluence
Another flower buds and swells to each incarnate soul as hells or heavens, limbos, faerie dells for aborning supplicants.
The choices we’ve already made weave pasts and futures that we’ve laid before us in this life displayed; immortal perseverance
Yet any moment we can shift the chance of change through which we drift by acts of love and surely lift the veil of our ignorance
Enlightenment’s a step away, we live in light here every day and every instant is the Way – eternity’s immanence…

photo

by R.Ayana

Images – author’s

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