Beasts may know
more than you ascribe
and humans, less
Pain is the sea
from which
all life has sprung
the vastness
of each and every
all that may be dreamt
and more
for consciousness first rose
from eternity
and this of course
is the everything
the all
And yet
we must tell you
that it was
and is
a beautiful sea
vast in its shades
of blue to green
suffering and birth
all wrapped
all contained
all spread
in penetration
of being
in its most primitive
At the time
as the waters rose
new and endless
there was no distinction
and compassion
as yet
held no place
it was a birth
pure and simple
with agony
all of a piece
at home
in the emergence
of the soul
And the sea
was not only water
not only salt
but the whole
of every being
swelling and receding
like the body
as it breathes
No separation
between the in breath
of purity –
vast virgin forests
and rivers clear
as tears
and the exhale
the surging aggression
of dying cells
a swirl
miasma of contradiction
in the substance of life
eating and then birthing
over and over
where the waves crash
upon the shore
flatten the sand
and disappear
as if
they have never been
This was
a holy time
in its very chaos
no attempt
at a united control
fundamental particles
doing a dance
destroying and then
as the full spectrum
of consciousness
began its journey
a rich
and tempestuous
How could one ask
when suffering was woven
into the fabric
of being
as necessary
as colour
in a landscape
as true
as intelligence
as loving
as loneliness
for it was not
a design
it was not
a plan
it was always
and everything
an ocean
wise beyond the boundaries
of knowing
for there was no knowing
there was only
Pain is
and experience
is perception
and perception
is the whole journey
I seek
the journey
we have taken
these infinite souls
and I
as dawn
in the empty mountains
as a funeral pyre
the ocean
was a cauldron
and it contained
every ingredient
as well as the spoon
the pot
the air
and the fire itself
Found in the broth
was even the cook
the very
As a child
wakes from a dream
to find
that truth
is the light of day
the safety of morning
so too
do you awaken
from dreams of pain
And I can no more
tell you
of its reason
than the bird
can translate
her song
It is the fabric
it is glorious
in its depth
and its expression
and it is only real
in memory
though there is no such thing
for once it leaves
it is gone
But if you must reach back
to the point of union
with the physical
delve into the splitting
of the very first cell
and know that this
this is pain
It is awareness
it is being
and with all the fury
of a dragon’s blow
this is
the making
of your world
It is more real
than the costumes
you wear
yet it is ultimately
what you are
Let the ocean
seethe and settle
let the battle
seep into bloody ground
and dry
upon a long, long wind
Let the world somehow
begin again
but only when you are ready
when the sea
has wiped you clean
and death
is no longer
to be found

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