the flowering of the senses

214

butt on cushion
body is one vast eye

the eye of I

body is a thousand-armed antennae

the hearing of I

body is perfume-breathing breath

the nectar-nose of I

body is an ocean of tentacles

the feeling, touching and tasting of I

.

I sees, hears, smells, feels this new day

without a trace of any yesterdays.

.

I is this new day.

~

suddenly the eyes of the ‘I’ are open

127

darkness to light,
night to day
the dawning light
that will display the appearance of the daytime world
is never in a hurry

it arrives in its own sweet time,
gradually and graciously, then,
all-of-a-sudden – it’s here!

.

waking up to one’s true identity is similar:

impossible to achieve,
yet ripeness ripens
via some-non-thing we call Grace
and suddenly the eyes of the ‘I’ are open

et voila!

wide-awakeness
that can never again be caught napping

~

one vast transparent eye

81

‘eye-I’ melts into the world
as one
vast transparent eye

‘me-mind’ constantly tries
to drape its veils of memory-weave
over the vastness

yet – not so constantly now…
less and less often
and with notable absence of conflict

the idea of ‘my-me’ fades
‘eye-I’ flowers
and this flowering is all there is

~