Seems in this dichotomous realm
“I”/This perfection can be
perfectly imperfect
unwHoly whole
exploring these contradictions
of suffering’s blissful nature.
When you know how to suffer —
It isn’t suffering Gangaji said.
What wise nonsense, nonsensical wisdom is that?!
Somehow somewho has learned it though …
There are experiences here
that reduce “me”
to a puddle of tears
big as the seven seas one of US
put it — fallen down so low
onto the linoleum floor
indenting “my” cheek
rivuleted by ages of weeping
cracked by numberless smiles
A Tear and a Smile the poetic prophet Gibran said.
These flat on the floor moments
floored — literally
unable to stand — screams “Get Up!”
Tear soaked loamy thunderstormy
minutes eternally not passing
that are Freedom’s announcement
of impending bloom.
No me can make things better.
Woundrousness inhabits
along with inner intra-abiding
and these two converse
as a little child watches
and all is held
Within, within the unfolding
of natural perfection all Is.
Somewho disappears
as all comes together
Who You*nifying Love at work
blessedly blissfully
and emerges again but
different yet stakes a claim
upon happenstance
as perfection unfolding, naturally;
celebrating, rejoicing
rises up in I/This Amness
brighter, clearer, beautified
with darkness in tow
some fathomless depth
of Mystery aglow.
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