part 1 of 3
You were born in a kingdom that never was,
a land always far away until it is within,
until it is alive through the riddle of self.
It thrives on life and goes on living
where no one else but you attends.
Imagine if this were said to you, and then
more.
There is a gateway of entry,
one that is the mystery of your lucid dreams.
You have to be self-possessed to venture then
to
recognize yourself in spirit but not revel in
the forms.
To step through images for their moment's
breath,
to sense with blending of curiosity and
familiarity,
to lead yourself with a sense of many
live-ness,
to be the sweating blessedness,
slopping on everything consciously touched,
to step aside into the center of the whirl,
to balance your day life with your nights,
to find perspective and trust of both worlds,
simultaneously, in your mind's eye,
to live nurtured in a land never entered,
by
the hurling of language
or by the images of experience,
to become one with the brush with death
in your every breath,
to feel the symbology of repeated images
over the course of your life,
to journey as both a means of transcendence
and a mastery of presence,
to be the warrior
of the moon's fluxing collective unconscious,
to train as a conduit
by surrender through dream as your means,
to experience astral sex as simply as
swallowing,
to decipher energetic dialogue
but free yourself from understanding’s burden,
to find where time is the fabric of costume,
to pretend into forms
where mischief is one of your special
talents,
to feel the collective of others set
afloat
within your perception to serve.
You need to be ruthless and not mandated.
Know that your mind is in a foreign land,
doing the touristy thing.
Give it a life that does not preoccupy
your vision or your time.
Let your mind clean up after you.
Let it be your press secretary.
Let it make sense for others after the fact.
Let it play at rational finds.
Let it alone, expecting it to be the last to
know,
would be perfectly fine and timely.
Be the emotional tranquil pool,
who thrives on lightning,
who wars on the stage where all souls are
fools,
who leads by mysterious means,
who touches with simple intimacy behind the
form,
who is taken to be a creator of images
with apparent indifference,
who cuts all ties to be of a wholer continuum,
who spies on the lake of life, day and night
though appears only on the surface.
All of this in a dream as your first order of
entry.
Imagine if this were said to you?
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