Saturday, March 1, 2014
THREE THINGS ARE LEFT TO ME
Compassion, gratitude, acceptance of what is. Is equals God. The vast, multi-dimensional tapestry of "is" I will never comprehend. I can only feel - eternity around me - infinity - everything - such beauty, such horror. Such mediocrity, which may only be the corner of the painting where a mouse sits and grooms its whiskers while a television blasts DANCING WITH THE STARS. A C-level celebrity with a big butt, so stretched with plastic surgery there's probably a little knob made out of skin in the middle of her back. She wears a scarlet min-balloon and dances with a tuxedoed man who looks like he works at an Arthur Murray studio in Schenectady, New York. Polar ice caps festooned with pretzels where white bears contemplate their imminent demise - energy and matter constantly merging. I am stuck here for the moment. Ego mind still worried because the saint is such a sinner, and someone is going to figure that out. Going up to where vast clouds drift through the universe. All the changes - all the objects breaking down to infinitely small powder - all the bursts of love from broken hearts creating rainbows in the misty sky.