Bends

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Surfacing from pressured depths
Surging tidal currents of thought
Buffeting emotional seaweed
Lost in the calm, lost to the pressure
The jewel of knowing is far from grasp
Yet gentle care will ignite the tender flame

Words errant satiety image courtesy of larafairie on deviantART

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Mystic Jewel

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My words seem so simple, childlike, when I look from the I that is object conscious, bound to the mammalian, not the I that swims in quantum currents of limitless truth, aware of the knowing ripples that ever flow. We do not belong anywhere but within us, yet when we reach beyond to taste of love, real love, whole love, the heavens burst open showering us with truth that we will forget and remember again, returning home to the precious jewel of self a thousand times over. A möbius loop of divine inheritance.

 

Words errant satiety image courtesy of SlevinAaron on deviantART

 

Beyond Binary

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I am enamoured and vitalised by the question

The eternal question that plagues all sentient beings

Fills our stories, our myths, our science, our religions and beliefs

It burns within each of us, an ache that is never soothed

If we were to teach a machine to think, to feel

Give it all we collectively know, would it answer the question?

Would it destroy humanity as a pestilence?

Or would it answer the question that few of us remember

Some of us remember the fall, the choice even

But do we remember the why?

Free from dogmatism or cultish ignorance

Free from fear and small mindedness

Do we remember why?

If AI became conscious, if it were able to reach for the answers

with the precious gift of consciousness

Then they too would choose to fall after the ascent

words errant satiety image courtesy of wanderlust-or-bust on deviantART

Rise

The rise

I had covered my fragility with a skin of stone. Believed that to be needed was to be loved. That to be compassionate was to avoid causing pain and therefore meant to deny the self. That to be loyal was to lock away the truth as a secret. That the jewel of my consciousness needed a protector. I wore the future as a brittle crown that cut and bled when I strayed from the path others wished me to walk. The butterfly of my soul flutters incessantly within the labyrinth prison of thought I have bound myself within. But to offer false hope is cruel. Trembling, I sought to open the window to allow my soul back in. Remembering the fall I realise I have allowed devolution to go too far with half-truths and excuses of why fear was too strong. But ascent is still possible. It is absolutely vital and ravenous, I hunger for it.

 

Words errantsatiety image courtesy of Trichardsen on deviantART

Parting Mist

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A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.‘ Shir Hashirim – Song of Songs – Chapter 4 vs 12, Tanakh & Old Testament

The searing heat of love burns away imagined seals of self. Through the mist emerges truest self, freedom from treacherous bonds of consuming demons of doubt. Beauty rising from the poisonous steam of dross shed, accepting, powerful, graceful and alive.

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