I am the confessor

Real love can never end; nothing in this world could possibly terminate it. If a relationship disintegrates beyond repair, then the truth is that there never was a relationship, only two egos competing for specialness. If it seems that love cements a relationship and later on it falls apart, there was little love there in the first place. Love is eternal, constant and ever-expanding. It is not possible to terminate love. However, it is quite possible to abort a special relationship that no longer sustains the pseudo-worthiness of its participants.





















Take Me To Truth undoing the ego


Nouk Sanchez & Tomas Vieira

i will admit that I don't know who I am








but








I



am


















discovered










(again)














I am built.













Through your negatives your positives and your moments








i am remembered.

The quest for certainty blocks the search for meaning.

Uncertainty is the very condition to impel man to unfold his powers

Erich Fromm

we should not be attached to an outcome that will cause us to lose our peace.



















Course Koans--
(miracle news)

Jean Weston

I wish there were no words to your self portraits

they can hang as scratches to a beautiful finish

there is much to take in





leave me alone with it.

a glass of water in a coffee mug
not older but beautiful

slow














down











you can't you say?
your life is running at that pace you say?















slow down







and your life will run at that pace you say

...for there is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so


- edward de vere

..we are all pieces, some bigger than others. You know I just think people keep adding pieces till you can sustain yourself. Then you go around showing people how they can do the same

One

it ain't me





you are addicted
to your feelings



they can easily relocate with you.










from one to another

nothing is visible through that state

dancing with ourselves

from one to another.

...we as people stare at a huge important experience on the shelf...we study it..and instead of letting it unfold slowly telling us where it needs to go...we fuck it.

...because I make it my business to find the authentic self in people--no matter how bloody it gets. Not as a game, but it is that thing that will allow me to see more of my real self...I have grown use to that experience.

It's the sweep

I saw her today












across the avenue



how I found her in the distance
with the crush of 5 pm seperating us.




it was easy

it was


the stance that gathered me






the cuff over the shoes that froze me

and

it was the way her hand swept her hair that confirmed it



it is the sweep
fingers full; neck twisting



the sweep










i don't love her



but she is there

and i have returned


back to the flesh

back to the starting point

those who leave quickly leave something behind....



and I have returned

The honest one sits in a chair in the crowded room

You will call me a liar a fake a bullshitter.




You will hate me




I will connive


I will lie. i will...


I have created it that way







the template is insane so--






I am

but now you cannot stop seeing my honest one.









even donning my shit






I will still clear the way for him.

you appear to be a ship that's breaking up.

A whirling dervis



running






around trying


to




make





sure




all the windows are closed
Is this how you imagine the post show?





More of the same?







Things have changed in your world














except your mind

i created the tempest
gave it life
and then called it my Mother

The Battle

my actions
are seperate
from a divided and stormy mind













I


learn




that





moments before

a storm


there is a feeling of abandonment.





despair

Mother Teresa knew.







It is an error; a grand error









The mind battles on



and


my actions
know.

The Saboteur

the saboteur







is ready


coiffed, erect. Hands neatly folded in front









a smile ready--for anything you have.

I have been asked many questions in my life about poetry, religion, life, and I have given precisely the same number of answers, but I have never, I repeat, never, satisfied a single interlocuter. Why? Because all questioning is a way of avoiding the real answer, which, as Zen tells us, is really known already. Every man is enlightened, but wishes he wasn't. Every man knows he must love his enemies, and sell all he has and give to the poor, but he doesn't wish to know it--so he asks questions.



R.H. BLYTH