OUR VOICE
Do we create
Or
re-create?
Remember,
Retreive,
Reconstruct,
What has gone before?
Ancestor’s
Back-brain commitees,
Manipulator’s of dream,
Or urge of the world’s word.
All, maybe, reaching for a hand, a tongue,
An instrument, sweet or loud,
To sing the old songs,
The forgotten histories.
A chorus, a fugue
Echoing through the aisles,
The wings, the ships, the stars,
Cathedrals of bone, temples of bone,
Resounding to the white noise –
The screaming sundering into time and space –
Nothing into something,
Something into something else.
Whispers of the first,
Pushing through to the last.
No choice, if the heart is beating.
No path, but rotate, expand, collapse.
No new view, no need for possession.
Nothing outside the Way of Heaven.
So give up this me and mine
Angst of name, fame, honour, like.
If the waves move through you
(Tides, tempests, zephyrs, whispers)
O Vessel of angels, defence of demons,
Inventor of nothing, commentator of mages,
Speak, write, shout, breathe.
Eyes that have seen everything
And forgotten,
Put it back
In our hearts –
The spark, the ember.
Every one of us-
A hearth of the sacred fire,
Never extinguished,
Ever-present light.
One of millions.
Small stars scattered,
Photons of cellular thought
There to glimmer eternally.
simonhlilly 
good to hear Simon. Away with this me and mine. Let the words flow…. thank you
‘Tis your fertilising, ferment of filosophy that firkles in my mind and stirs up tangential ripples. Thank you!
I think of every one of us as a drop in an ocean of conscious energy, infinite and endless, beyond space and time.
We are separated from this source, like a fish flopping on the ocean shore, during our material phase.
When we are finished here, we are reunited with the source.
Just my opinion.
http://chimaeraimaginarium.wordpress.com/2012/11/08/a-matter-of-life-and-death-and-life/
Consummatum est
Beautiful… we are all connected… one people… one love… one world… one voice. Love yours this night and the “intertwining generations” tree branches/roots… just a beautiful silence 🙂 Thank you.
Or: edge and separation are mistakes of intellect. Reality of individual existence and uniqueness, a point of view only. In an infinite and eternal, everywhere is the central point, everywhere the instant of presence. Language, however, automatically creates object, subject, former and latter. And as we habitually think using language our constraints are manyfold and difficult to discern….
Thanks! The interweavings are of ivy, an interesting plantish metaphor!