The Path of the Mystic

The Light of the Divine

The mystic is one who lives ever in the consciousness of his divinity. He senses intuitively the divine life in all things. He sees within the outer, which is fleeting and perishable, an inner which is imp

Finally got this thing finished! Will be of particular interest to folks here, as it deals with a deep Karmic question which manifests itself above, as well as below :)

www.jtarts.net/poetry.html

Blessings <3

Occasionally I stumble
across a cosmic crossroads,
existence shows me something
that changes all direction.

Giving my soul a wake-up call
from some part of the universe,
working through some other part,
showing so much love.

I find some extraordinary
piece of

Aware you never were not,
feeling in your heart was never absent,
living fever in your soul was ever clearing you.

What thing lives in the universe without feeling,
what could it feel like
to not be you?

All the masses who's adulation you deserve
still muck

I could write a whole book for you,
but what would that change?

Ask the sweet night air whether it cares
if it was changed by the movement of a dancer.

You open the gateway of my heart, even though
you don't know where it is, or how it opens.

Understand yourself as an aspect of enlightenment:
Completely effortless, yet infinitely powerful.

You want me to show I love you in a simple way,
that is just not possible.

The more basic a touch becomes, the more it refracts every shade
of that which is just not possible.

Merciful in your devastation, you recreate
old parts of me by destroying old parts of me.

I long for your transmutation back into myself,
for the final death only you can understand.

People like that, they turn themselves
into a mist and merge with everything.

People like that never die, just grow.
I believe someday we will all be such lovers.

All these voices that you are,
whispering to me through this hazy dream.

Each one in blinding and detailed uniqueness,
each so obviously you again in disguise.

Oh my how I want to say these things to the world
with this voice, but what it is good for.

Thirty thousand lineages of thirsty priests
say the same words for an eternity,
still not heard, or rarely.

This voice overpowers my song,
squirts the ink from pens

This romance of mine is not attachment.

It will not seek to own you, control you,
your loyalty or fidelity,
your soul or your mind.

No expectations, no boundaries,
just the fleeting moment of love
being shared
right now.

Never be afraid of a heart that ope

For a shred of your secret, queens and kings
abandon all their riches, become beggars.

For a glimpse of your emerald heart, the living
immolate themselves in longing for you.

Here You are again,
gentle green Goddess giving
tender blue and purple love,
no sign of apprehension.

I can never help but see Her
in Your thinly veiled eye,
this essence hidden from all
but those who recognize that lamp
dimly shining in the window at home.

W

This poem fills my heart with warmth