Submissions by royston

SHE IS

The ego grows and sticks like glue
behind it's rampart and walls high,
through slit windows it's arrows fly
to fall and run straight through
the spirit that is always you,
in desert climes where she is freed
as wind blows through the tumble-weed
and who can tell or glean
or verify what she has seen;
she is not time if she malingers
if she like sand runs through your fingers
forgetful she of all forgiven
she is the very soul of heaven,
she is the depth of the profound,
and is what makes the world go round.

I pluck the lion-tooth,
all interpretations are murderers of truth ;

for God is like one's shadow
one needs the light to see it,

and what is more – forever more
we all must die to be it,

behind it's bars of thought
the brain has not the point of view

and I will never get parole
until I see that God is you;

though God is something
some thing is not God

for God is as nothing
yet no thing is God,

for God is the limit of human perception,
as God is a tree but the tree is not God

and God is the...

Is there a moment that never stops
always there where the pendulum drops?
For I would let the clock unwind,
observe my thoughts that they might cease
until such measures  of my brain
might let the brass there
hang in peace, when future
and the past, no more
would block me at that open door :
The other side is Krishnaji
who sits and stays with what he knows
and how he quells his body – mind
as if this world were never here-
to leave it for the Astral  sphere,
and how he steals beyond my gloom
what soil gives to the lotus bloom ;...