Being is a lonely place
A lump surrounded all by space
It grovels on its knees for grace
And cries aloud to walk a pace towards another being.

Little being seeks greater Being
A solitary trek to know
Co-operates with other beings
Fashioning a stronger car
To cross the deserts who we are
And come back home where safe and meaning-full we rest.

This wandering on in solitude
Our voices echoing from the rocks
Attempts to bridge the fathomless space
That separates us all from grace
Is seen as normal and as sane
Despite the fact it gives us pain
The blindfolds wrapped around our eyes
Confuse our hearing of the cries
We stumble on yearning for grace
While blindly building bridges into space.

And in the building knowing flowers
lifts the heart
bestows a power
To temporarily rip right off
the blindfold we have learned to love
And being sees itself anew
A family drama
drenched in grace
A jewel-like city
all of space
An interbeing born from search
awakens from the lump-like
sleep of separated being things.

It breaths deep breaths of vast relief
To find itself with new belief
A joyous dance
A wonderful party.
Co-operation rules the day from
micro to the macro play
Filigree webs of harmony
Mother father sister brother
atoms all in this palace place
of time and space.
Join hearts together praising grace
And drunken now
intoxicated with vaster knowing
We fail to notice blindfolds
even still are present here.

In the begining were lumps lost in space
desperately crying out for grace
Now there are tapestries of being
Net workings of flashing parts that
mesmerise and lull the heart
And now a vaster universe reveals a
jewel encrusted desert here to
deal us yet another challenge.
Oh invisible interbeing of wondrous
giving heart..... Wake up!
You cannot rest
Look deeper still
And every interbeing thing dissolves and
vanishes from thought
Into the mystery awesome vast.

Space and time all concepts fade
Hair stands on end and
tears flow freely
As interbeing itself betrays our childlike trust
and fades to where words fail to paint
a picture in the boundless space
touching all with fathomless grace
and hinting at a new and terrifying place of constant inter-becoming.

Feeling the stories
Running from faraway places
Dreaming...Oh the vastness of the dreaming!

Familiar moments
Sitting around fires that flicker shadows
on evanescent caves of living rock
Fires of wood, of coal, of oil, or uranium
the stories are still the same.
Looking into the darkness
beyond the dancing light play
We strain to see
compelled to know
What is the fundamental stuff?

What cultures rose and fell. Wars were
fought to see which view supreme
Yet rarely seeing lightly hidden truth that in seeking
"THE" fundamental
we are all of us living the same age old story.

Join me for a moment - if you can
and let your imagination venture forth
into a strange and hugely disturbing territory
Can you imagine a world with nothing as fundamental?
- No primary building blocks
- No safe haven of reliability
Can you soften into an endless moment so staggering
- yet so familiar.
Habit relates everything to "our body".
We created a story to understand
the universe and then were eaten
by the monster story of our own making

Perhaps our task is to be storytellers
Not custodians of the ancient lore
but creators of future lore
The stories we tell is the world
our children will see
A non-linear time-share universe
Spurting and jumping and oozing and flowing and
thoroughly drenched within
Stretching and binding and reaching and grinding
Buzzing of rivers lingering in the choclea
Tongue reaches wildly for tastes yet unknown
Photons from Beetleguse ripple memories from childhood
as the salt oceans flow and flow and flow

Vast multidimensional Inter-becoming
gives a collage of images
in a chaos of rightly touching
Mind, in a stunning leap of creative madness
conceives itself in form from the
foaming ocean and
like a bubble floating above the ferment, feels itself to be good.

Images linking and memory fastening a
filigree piece of wire and gemstone. Hardened in
the forge of other people's views - we craft a self.
- a platform, - a launching gantry, - a bridge abutment
- a battering ram, - a carriage
A fulcrum against which the lever can move a cosmos of matter
Though what does it matter? a patter, a splatter a crack and a groan

I wake
Spontaneously sprung from the foaming of see.
My history's fresh as I bake it each morning.
Mourning the death of a life barely lived
constantly reaching and where is it going this nectar of knowing
this potion of caring

Mobius strips turning slowly in space
The stories loop backwards
Radiating wonderment to all ears that hear
Love from the heart
heart filled with grace
this is my face.
Finished

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