Category: Poetry

Burn

Fire below,
Not fuelled from flare,
But set free,
By dissolving doors.

Let it burn,
Burn,
Until never contained again,
Ravage landscapes of previous prisons.

Pave the way for fresh flora,
To pierce through concrete,
Painted walls and continual words,
Composed rhythms and wandering flames.

TF

28/02/19 – Thursday, 9:40 – Travelling to training ground, Las Vegas

The idea of a separate perceiving subject is absurd.

There is no observation of a thing without that thing observing you right back. So who’s the perceiving subject if there is in fact no separateness at all?

Everything observes every thing.

As I look upon these mountains, a part of them becomes a part of me, I wonder if a part of me also becomes a part of them in the process?

We all melt into each other and everything around us.

No inside, no outside.

No objective.

No subjective.

Just one.

TF

 This is a blessing,
 For now I can see,
 There is no ‘I’,
 There was no ‘me’.
  
 Although I have parted,
 I’ll continue to be,
 For I’ll always remain,
 A manifestation of ‘we’.
  
 Bless my vessel,
 It served me well,
 But beyond it I’ve gone now,
 It was only a shell.
  
 I return to the source,
 To dance free with divinity,
 For this journey was,
 Just one of infinity.

TF 
There are a million ways to meditate, 
Sitting quietly is just one of them,
Although it’s a particularly good one,
For it is so unlike our increasingly rushed world,
It’s also, therefore, increasingly useful. 
However, meditation is simply bringing yourself,
Into the present moment,
Into eternity,
Into the invisible world. 
There are many methods that do this,
While also developing the vessel that resides in 
the visible world,
Practicing, art, craft, sport, exercise or any other 
task can be meditation,
As can walking, swimming - anything. 
Yet maybe sitting quietly is held up as one of the 
most effective methods,
For it does not involve this vessel of the visible 
world,
So it is easier to leave this physical place behind,
And find eternity.

TF