If all the stars were paper

and all the space was ink,

and if I had forever

the time for which to think;

then never would the stars suffice,

and n’er would spread the ink,

to tell the story of my love

and what I came to drink.


And even if the words were there

to shed a little light

among the existential gloom

of those in troubled flight,

would that amount to giving

what is not mine to give,

or can the power of the word

encourage them to live?


A little learning is a dangerous thing,

or so it has been said;

but if you do not give it now,

then you cannot when you’re dead!

And for what purpose then I ask

is freedom given for?

The choice is mine,

at least for now,

to give them something more:

to tell them of from whence they came,

and to whither they return;

for the end is the beginning—

and so much there is to learn!


And never did the ancients

of that mystic thread through time,

describe the realm of paradise—


So I’ll make that project mine!


*      *      *



The Fulfilment of Incarnate Being

(Paradise on Earth—or the Reciprocal Convergence.)


How many coats of consciousness

must yield before the dawn

where man can live incarnate

without such pain to mourn.


What scalpel could be honed so sharp

to heal the wounds therein;

or does the knowledge of one’s self

eradicate the sin.


What lies before the thought of things

which manifests the day;

the realm of infinite duration,

where there is no price to pay.


What road transcends the temporal things

of form and shape and size,

where knowledge of the ground of self

illuminates the prize.


Where feeling is not touching

and knowing is not thought,

yet overcoming paradox

is a lesson to be taught.


Where metaphysics hangs its coat

and mystics dwell in awe

the singer may be sighted,

but the song goes on yet more.


part two


The inward journey trod and done

will yield the truth, but not the sum.

From whence we come we must return,

knowing not how, but with will to learn.


When Cosmos in the Atom dwells,

and the seer is that seen,

still yet our senses manifest

illusions of the dream.


But slowly moves the dawning

of illusion’s bubble burst,

when first we take a faltering step

with philosophic thirst.


What substance hath a shadow,

the minds virus of great might,

wherein the death of living truth

is but the lack of light.


Self-righteous halls of intellect

whose substance is but I,

like the sound of one hand clapping

knows not that which is nigh.


Like jewels cast out upon the tide

that sink with marching time,

it is not an act of nature

which perpetrates the crime.


part three


The idea which creates the ‘self’

and enshrines its love therein;

is the first sour fruit of freedom;

for the idol is the sin.


Stand not in awe, nor bow, nor scrape,

to creation by your hand;

for can it ever match the truth

within a grain of sand?


The symphony of man’s delight

is but a passing tune,

now waxing, and then waning,

like seasons of the Moon.


What magnitude of counterpoint

beholds the greater me,

when casting back its freedom

like winds across the sea.


The greatest love a man beholds,

like the tiddler on a line;

must yet, by self, be cast back to

a freedom, beyond time.


Where all is one, and one is all,

is a mere lesson for a boy;

while MAN is now the affirmation

of a vast eternal joy.


part four


Of what, and when, and how, and why,

the knowing will come clear

if time you make with quiet mind,

and communicative ear.


What then comes amid the calm,

whatever be its name,

the wing like voice of insight pleads,

“Go forth, and do the same!”


How provest thou of what is known,

in rhyme, or verse, or prose,

where awareness was the essence,

before the thought arose?!


Where nothing was excluded;

though only briefly dwelt,

the mono-pole existence

wherein no pain was felt.


But if the mind denies itself

and turns its face away,

then the glory that is man’s by right,

won’t see the light of day.


So how can man discover,

that which, by truth, is best?

Unleash the ties of ego’s grasp;

Meta-Aesthesis, Consummatum Est.


*      *      *



Reflecting on the times gone by,

whilst lonely in a field,

a tiny distant shining light

to me was then revealed.


The light it bade me hither,

by love’s gravity it seems;

and when the two became as one,

I transcended human dreams.


The young will have their visions

in the light which then redeems

the knowledge of from whence we came:

and when old we dream our dreams.




That which I now offer,

has been learned through many years,

I have learned of it through laughter,

and learned of it through tears.


Much is done in ignorance,

and much is done in pain,

but if I had to walk such road,

then I would do it all again.


And if you and I do not thus sing

of what sets the heart aglow,

then it could well take the children

so long, to come to know.


One thing, I would ask readers,

if I may be so bold;

to read the lines which follow,

in the order which they’re told.


*      *      *



There is one thing you ought to know

if one would advise you which way to go;

so heed a word, and mark it well,

lest your mind may fare unwell.


In order that you truly see

words of truth that come to thee,

distinguished from a word untrue

of things which are so close to you.


Remember that a one who knows

the restitution of repose,

and truly seen the wondrous thing;

their poetry will dance and sing.


So if there is no sparkle there;

but words of doom, and dark despair,

then let your mind not linger long;

for theirs is not the actual song.


Hence, be alert, where greed may dwell;

which brings a cloud, a hollow bell;

and thus a darkness long in time;

for theirs is not the actual rhyme.


*      *      *



Where some walk on the mystic path

in knowledge of what they do,

I, like many others,

knew not of what they do.

One simply takes in that which comes

and meditates thereon,

while mind and heart are open

to a pulsing inner song.


Such things are done in quiet times

despite the seas of pain,

of stress and deep frustration

and chores which daily strain

the sinews of the backbone

and the nerve ends in the brain.


It was not a road I trod by choice,

for I was asked to go!

by something I did not know what;

and did not want to know.

It was more than I did bargain

on the day I gave a sigh

desiring knowledge of the all,

and answers such as.. “WHY”.


part two


And even when the World was gone,

and I was asked if I would “GO”,

my answer then, in truth, and fear,

was NO, no, no, no, no!


But there is a Cosmic blackmail

even while amid great fear;

a Love unknown by mortals;

a love which draws you near,

and transports you through such aeons,

through depths of time untold,

to the ultimate destination;

where the answers thus unfold.


But be warned, you are not the piper

that calls the mystic tune

the day it comes to take you,

be it morning, night, or noon.


And when you KNOW,

you will not rest

with religion’s motley throng

for they do not KNOW the Singer;

and they do not KNOW the Song.


*      *      *



The Nous of Wisdom knows itself,

and knows of something more

which lies beyond the reach of things,

right at the very core

of all the things that come to be

ripples on the temporal sea.


Let it not then be a chore

to go in search of so much more

than symbols that erect a bar

to the gold which lies within the jar.


A Butterfly will flutter by

not caring of its name,

while those that name the stars on high

no greater sup attain

of the twinkling in the night sky

or music in the brain;

nor warmer in the sunshine’s rays

or wetter in the rain.


And where a word encroaches

upon the senses field

no greater truth, or wisdom,

can e’er such naming yield.

And n’er will any Codex

written, signed and sealed,

release such inner secrets

as when the nature is revealed.


Fill not the mind with clutter

beyond the call of need,

but leave a space for nourishment

for that inner magic seed;

the Divine Spark of Nous within,

which makes creation dance, and sing.


*      *      *



Paradise is all around you,

and yet you cannot see;

it’s also spread upon the Earth,

the sky, the winds, the sea.


And even when you’re sleeping,

or with eyes closed in the dark,

it’s calling you like Sirens song,

from the depths, a tiny spark.


Such Sirens call will lure you;

(the travellers on the sea)

down to the deepest rock there is;

the foundation of Eternity.


Then Paradise is all around you:

so list dear Omar to me

and ride with me a moment

to the Womb of Eternity.


I will give you knowledge of the all,

but I cannot make you see;

for that’s reserved for something else;

beyond the likes of me.


But I will give you knowledge

of Paradise itself,

until such time you find the Grail

is deep within your self.


*      *      *



List to me old Omar,

of whence you come and go;

that of which you had no ken,

but dearly longed to know.

I’ll turn a few old pages,

the lesson for to see

beyond sans wine, and dust to dust;

beyond the temporal tree.


You wondered what the vintners buy

with that from which they sell,

that ever could be quite as good,

and do the work so well.

There is another vine you see,

much sweeter than the brew;

whose roots go deeper into truth,

and lift your mind anew.


So many doors you entered

and tallied there so long;

but n’er a one there told you of

the singer and the song.

So stay a while yet longer

while I tell of what I know;

and the swan-song of my story,

of whence we come and go.


*      *      *



(For Jon.)


Close by the gates of Brendon

a vision came to me,

a vision of such ugliness;

a barren runt of a Tree.


N’er was a thing so useless;

what could its purpose be

amid such rampant beauty

as this stunted excuse for a Tree?


Yet while amid the dancing day

in the vital push of spring,

I could not take my eyes away

from the goddamned ugly thing.


I questioned it for hours,

until the Sun was low;

and so sorry for that Tree I felt,

but why... I did not know.


But when I questioned of the Tree

I had to search myself

for who’s was then the poverty

and who’s was then the wealth?


The Tree (it was a mocking tree),

and I did give a sigh;

the goddamned thing had beaten me,

and I did not know why!


part two


Hard by the gates at Brendon

a boy sat down to drink,

and there a useless ugly Tree

did teach a boy to think.


Of which then is more useless,

a moorland Rowan Tree,

or a mind thus not engaged in thought

where thoughts are supposed to be?


I laughed and laughed as Sun went down

behind the Rowan Tree,

for I learned the greatest lesson;

the useless runt... was me.


And before that day was over

(a coincidence no doubt)

from this world I was thus taken,

to where Paradise is laid out.


But hark, a word of warning,

for where learning thus begins

there follows many a dark night

before reason also sings.


*      *      *



Like you, I too, was not amused,

and with life’s pain was most confused;

and yet the mind could love so well

among the forms where it did dwell.


Such paradox of love and pain

caused the mind to turn again

to itself where thoughts abode,

the inward calm, reflective mode.

But nought there was that came to me

to terminate ambiguity.


Thus, in ignorance I did bask,

not equal to the cosmic task,

and sighed a poem to my love;

it echoed to the stars above,

and like the essence of a rhyme

it hit the furthest depths of time,

and showed me all there was to see

beyond the forms, in Eternity.


And in the essence tallied long

rejoicing in the cosmic song.

Was it thus well done? you say;

In likeness of the cosmic way?

Twas not a likeness of anything else;

for it was... the thing itself.


*      *      *



There was a time, some years ago,

when nought, I thought, there was

could answer all my questions;

because, because, because!


But soon I learned that was not so;

there was a place that we could go

where all the answers we would know,

are waiting there... so deep below.


Such questions that pertain to time;

then only time can tell;

but those which burrow deeper yet...

there, we must go as well.


Be wary though, of what you ask;

for are you truly driven?

And will you take in that which comes?

Whatever may be given?


For it’s nothing like the mind could dream;

and like no words can say,

when the insubstantial pageant fades,

and all things pass away.


If you would know it, then you must,

leave all behind, like dust to dust,

and journey down that lonesome road

alone, alone, to the Motherload.


*      *      *



(For Bryony.)


Once, upon a miracle,

the ferryman called on me,

and took me on a journey

beyond the temporal sea.

Never would a one believe

the things that passed that day,

and of the many splendours

I saw along the way.


In music made of light I swam,

then drifted like a Dove,

beyond the world we all know well,

in music made of love.

The Arkons of the depths I saw

in glory all around,

then carried me through Limbo,

then to my resting ground;


Wherein I spent...  forever!

midst time beyond our form;

in truth, and love, and wisdom;

the very first great dawn.

The Virgin Womb of Eternity

opened up to show

its wondrous jewels to me that day;

and why?... I’ll never know!


So furthermore dear Omar,

it is not quite true to say,

that none come back to speak of

those things along the way.


*      *      *


(Transitive Consciousness.)


Between the Earth and Paradise,

the strangest place to be,

is the realm of minds transition,

the journey of the free.

No freedom though, there is within,

of actions, choice to see,

for only that which needs must,

is made for you and me.

One facet of transition

is Limbo’s quiet scene;

where nought there is created,

but time to think, and dream.

Such visions are the Arkons,

of light beyond the Earth,

and each one has a message

self-evident, as our birth.

It is a kind of learning

much speeded up in time,

and the message is implicit,

without a word or rhyme.


The Arkons of the depths prepare

the way that lies ahead;

where some say you are living,

and some say you are dead!

They also act as transport

to Annihilations gate;


in the midst of the white state.

Beyond the gate of Paradise

all memory is thus lost,

of all the things you did in time;

their pleasures, and their cost.

But, of all the Arkons,

along that deep dark flight,

the most majestic of them all,

is Music... made of light.


*      *      *


(The Realm of Limbo; or Mind Alone.)


There is a time for laughing,

there is a time for thought,

and there is a time for going

where no Earthly thing is wrought.


And when such time encroaches

and clouds the temporal dream,

fear not the rushing darkness

and Limbo’s quiet scene.


For in the stillness of ‘No-Thing’;

no vision to behold;

there is a wondrous lesson,

a story to be told.


Unlike the journeys final end

in the Womb of Eternity,

the temporal halt in Limbo

there is no thing to see.


Yet strange, so strange, it is to be

in knowledge of ‘No Thing’,

and how the thought of ‘nothing’

teaches us to sing—


part two


—a leaf, a breeze, a drop of rain,

a snowflake in its fall,

each touch, each smell, each vision,

and the purpose of them all.


Before the gate of Paradise,

before Annihilations might,

in the passageway of Limbo,

wherein there is no light

is now the greatest lesson

that man can learn today,

of what it’s like, when all the things,

of life... have gone away!


So much I learned in Paradise;

So much I learned on Earth;

but somehow strange, and strange to say,

in Hell, I learned their worth.


Yet even that dimension,

where nought there is to see,

is but a Divine essence,

a lesson, so to be.


*      *      *



A solitary light is coming fast!

the song I sing will be my last;

sad to say it’s time to go,

and all the things I’ll never know!


But never mind, the road was fun;

even though it’s now nigh done.

What a way to end this flight...

crashing out in blazing light!


Down Eros, and up Mars....

but wait!... the thing is full of stars!

My Gor’d... I drift in love divine...

the Eternal Dome... is mine; all mine!


My Gor’d... I’ve made a motley pun

of what I am, and whence I come!

Would, oh would, that I could be,

out here, as when I am with thee.


Never would a man believe

what in truth he does achieve.

So spread your blessings throughout time;

or no work will get done...

and that won’t rhyme!


A heart on fire will pound and pound

and like a feather, float to its ground.

In resurrection from ‘No-thing’,

among the lights I sing and sing;

a silent song that none can hear;

except the Ultimate Cosmic ear.


*      *      *



The Trimorphic Protennoia;

(three aspects of the Mind),

two which serve a temporal need

and one which remains behind.

A Rose by any other name,

as spirit, soul, and mind,

but the Trimorphic Protennoia

is Consciousness you’ll find.


FORMATIVE cognition,

the norm of temporal mode;

TRANSITIVE cognition,

which takes that lonely road;

ESSENTIAL cognition,

which in Paradise doth dwell;

and in the final Arkon field

you’ll know them oh so well.


The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

as some would have it known;

but they attribute to something else

that which is your own.

For Mind in Paradise is not that

which brings all things to be;

for that is something deeper yet

than the emergent parts of you and me.

Cast your net a little deeper

than the mystic Trinity

when talking of the first cause

of Time and Eternity.


*      *      *


The Dimension Between Death and Resurrection



Betwixt the final Arkon,

in the dome of melting light

and the resurrection to from whence we came,

there comes the greatest fright

the soul knows in its journey

of exodus into form,


which separates the dawn

from all the things that move in time,

all things that come to be

ripples in the vortex, of temporality.


Thus, between Annihilation

and returning to that womb

there comes a point of ‘nothing’;

the one and only tomb.


What can one say of ‘nothing’?

There is nothing one can say!

of the point of no duration,

through which we go that day.


But if you know it in advance,

as you who read these lines,

then you will not know death, but how,

the Essence and Form, entwines.


And you will not know fear that day

for you will still recall

that you are passing through the void,

and soon will know, the all.


part two


The mind cannot but wonder

as to what is taking place

while consciousness is dormant

before entry to that place.


The gap of no duration

could be ten million years,

or a fraction of a moment,

till Paradise appears.


But as it takes no time at all

insofar as we can know,

then all that really matters

is knowing where we go.


But in that final moment

of melting in the white

annihilation of the self,

indeed life’s greatest fright.

Yet knowing it from hindsight

no more could it bring fear;

and I never really did know who

wept that final tear

in the trimorphic reunion

amid the dome of white

which lies before the mystic void

before Eternal light.


*      *      *


(Annihilation of Annihilation.)


The Resurrection defies all words

that you and I can say;

of what is seen, and what is known

in the place we go that day.

Never could a Human mind,

while in ignorance doth dwell,

construe, think, or imagine,

anything done so well.


‘Tis simpler to say nothing,

and keep the mystery,

but what a waste of precious truth

of things invested thus in we.

A picture would tell nothing

of what it’s like in there,

the vision is just perfect

but of quality nought can compare.


Imagination only works

on things already known;

thus, never try to ponder

on the quality of Home.

But when the TWO become as ONE

amid the final gate

such little time will pass before

you rest in your orbit of state.


The void of no duration

through which we then must go,

(the real, and only, act of death)

before you come to know.


part two


There is, in resurrection,

an irony it’s true,

for you’ll know just what you really are;

for the first time... you’ll know YOU.

But what is more important

you’ll know of something more,

of something else which is not you,

of something... so much more!


The vision is a bonus,

though the best thing ever seen,

but there’s more to that Womb than vision,

far more than you could dream.

And when you arise in Paradise...

... you never did arrive;

for that is where you’ve always been,

since first you were alive.


‘Tis magic of the Nth degree;

and God knows how it’s done!

and the answer to that question,

alas will never come.

But then again, who wants to know;

such things you will not care,

while you are in such Wisdom

of the child you are... in there.


There is another aspect

so strange to come to see;

that ultimate divine knowledge,

is unquestionable mystery.

Though it is a kind of mystery,

in which there is NO DOUBT;

and thus a total knowledge

of what it’s all about.


part three


And in the midst of Paradise,

as far as one can see,

it goes on and on forever;

and it’s made, for you, and me.

The lights amid the darkness,

like Jewels in purple hung;

through which you orbit slowly

while the final song is sung.


But time is of an order

unknown by you and I:

imagine it you cannot,

no matter how you try.

Ten thousand million years go by

beyond the gates of dawn

but while in there, ten thousand years,

is but a divine dawn.


Think not of Trees or Angels,

or wise men with long hair;

think not of men and women,

or cherubims in there.

But try to just imagine,

to be alone that day,

with a total love n’er ending,

in a passion none can say.


And when the time does come to go

and leave that divine realm;

‘tis known so clear, that ‘otherness’

is the driver at the helm.

“Oh my love, it’s time to go,

for something is in need;

and now you must be with it!”

And thus IT IS... indeed!


part four


Once back on Earth in mortal form

the mind lives in a dream,

of what it IS, and whence it came,

and all the things it’s seen.


But ‘tis not for the feint hearted,

for there’s fear along the way;

although the Arkons smooth the path

to the place we go that day.


If all the Stars up in the sky

were money, gold, or wine;

I would not change them for my love

if presented thus as mine.

For in truth I have them also,

a Universe so wide;

the grass, the trees, the flowers,

which Paradise will hide.


If all the stars were paper,

and all the space was ink;

and if I had forever,

the time for which to think:

then never would the stars suffice,

and n’er would spread the ink,

to tell the story of my love,

and what I came to drink.


No matter then, of where I am,

and what I come to see,

for all the things that come our way

remain in memory.

But when the memory has to go

upon that divine day,

then I am just as happy,

for things to be, the other way.


*      *      *


(Synetic dialogue.)


I am the watcher at the gates of dawn

where there is no eve, no noon, or morn.

I do not think, but float and stare;

and of all things I am aware.


I am the final judge of time,

and all that moved once, is now mine;

for all is still;  ‘tis only me

that permeates this wondrous sea.


I am the final perfect thing,

brought forth, the final song to sing.

From whence I came, and whither I go,

even I can never know;

for I am not the light you see,

but only that which falls on me.


Each light within this wondrous dome

unto itself, and each alone,

with a truth that all do see;

but only known by the thing called ‘me’.


I am remembrance of the great;

and knowledge of the final state;

and when I judge it so well done;

I am the reflection... of whence I come.


*      *      *


(Beyond Annihilation.)


Oh my love, that “I” should be

awake in they, as “I” in me!

Judgement knows the depth of Glow,

where spirit falls like snow, on snow.


Where time is done, and put to rest;

primordial womb, so richly dressed!

Many hide in words, or glee;

but I, my love, will set you free!


Through “I” you may behold your form,

as I have watched from the gates of dawn.

No hand has touched, no eye has seen;

no thinking mind has dared to dream.


Time is short and tally’s not;

much less cares of what it’s got.

But holes between events in time,

can’t be spent, for they are mine.


Those who see the truth below,

need not believe—for they will Know

the learning is beyond the night,

beyond the moving, and the white.


*      *      *



Without another to love

all beauty is in vain,

truth is an empty vessel,

no meaning exists in pain.


Beyond the shroud of movement

where not even truth can hide,

is proof enough the saying,

“Nought burns in Hell but pride”!


The Cosmos needs its lover

in order that ‘it’ can ‘be’.

But in order to say “I love you”,

requires one to be free.


Thus freedom is the Cosmic price,

its passion churns the throng,

whilst knowing not the Essence,

the Singer; and the Song.


Free acts of choice, as now I know,

is the hardest thing to learn;

and to justify creation now

is what we must discern.


But I tell you this my greatest love;

the freedom that is ‘Me’,

and now I know just what it is...

... I never shall be free!


*      *      *


(A willing Slave to my lover for all time and beyond.)



*      *      *


(The Cosmic View.)


There are a few among us

who claim that they do know

the will of that which moves all things,

and thus, they would us show.

They say we should do this and that,

for reasons of their own,

but nought there is that stirs their heart

while sitting all alone.


Such bliss in dire ignorance!

for ‘tis they that cannot see

that our virtue on the path of life

is love midst uncertainty.

What virtue is an act brought forth,

while knowing what will be?

And how is that a virtue

if the future we could see?

In truth things do not work that way;

and our virtue is thus done,

in which we do, by our intent,

yet not knowing what will come.

But if such act brings forth a smile

upon another’s face,

and warms another’s heart to sing;

my friend.... then that is grace.


Thus, do not be too hasty

in judgement of deep things

while in the throws of youthful bliss,

and the pain that learning brings.

But in due course the pain dissolves,

and withers quite away;

and only that which is of truth,

in memory will stay.

And what is more, Horatio,

(Oh yes, I know him well),

you cannot stay for ever

where ignorance doth dwell.

For the road we wander, vast and long,

in darkness, and in light,

will issue forth its message

of what is wrong, and right.


part two


Thus, only time can have its way

on sleepy Cosmic eyes;

and that is why, to judge too soon,

is truly most unwise.

And what is more, ‘tis also why,

from Paradise we’re cast,

amid the forms of temporal things,

and knowing not the past.


“Oh my love, ‘tis time to go,

for something is in need;

and now you must be with it!”

And thus it is.... indeed.

Is it any wonder then

that infants cry at birth?

when landing in Amnesia;

as is necessary on Earth.


But that which lingers on in part,

and redeveloped in the seed,

is the synthesis of wisdom

and it drives our temporal steed;

nor will not forget its business

in the guiding of our way;

for what is done is instinct;

and never fades away.


And thus it is that learning

is placed in instincts draw;

and forever to be drawn on,

when our reason is in flaw.

The message is encoded,

on music made of light,

and in the Trees, and in the Stars,

and in that Womb, so bright.


*      *      *



A Gnostic is a one who knows

the restitution of repose,

and having seen that wondrous sight

before the moving, and the white.

The knowledge of the depth of things;

the root from which all time begins

to issue forth its Cosmic load,

and ever conscious of its road.


The wisdom of creation’s love

returns to seed like wingéd Dove

when its temporal course is through,

washed of care becomes as new.


The Cosmic mind is bound to roam

many orbits from its home,

and into Somnus it must dive,

in darkness, fear, it must yet strive

to liberate its inner form

as it was before the dawn

when the mind dwelt in the light

of that virgin realm so bright.


In mortal life its memory knows

from whence it came, and whither it goes;

and thus it never walks alone,

however far it is from home.

One day, for sure, they all will know

the greatest truth that mind can show;

that ‘Love of Wisdom’ is second best

to the ‘Wisdom of Love’, in its home of rest.

And I AM (mind), amid the throng,

have seen the singer, and the song;

and nought can reach Eternity,

other than by way of me.


*      *      *



Nought there is, could ever be found

more wondrous than the mystic ground;

The Virgin Womb of Eternity,

where life starts for you and me.

From whence we came and to whither we go

when spirits done its temporal show.


Why so grand in there? we ask!

when temporal deeds are such a task!

Why should time exist at all

if it makes us seem so small

and insignificant to the day,

and foolish in the temporal way?


But revelation is not done

when first we see creation’s Son

in its Cosmic Womb so bright,

before the moving and the white.


The essence of the wisdom there

must in time pervade,

and emanate, to stimulate,

the temporal forms parade.


And thus, in such accomplishment,

when essence lands on Earth,

we truly then do realise

the reason for our birth.


Shine not your knowledge on your sleeve

or fret what others may believe;

for that which life has given you

will permeate through what you do.


Well thumbed books can teach anew,

passed on clothes can comfort you;

but Revelation secondhand come,

does not work.... on anyone


*      *      *


 (Dedication to Omar Khayyam.)


Would that I could sleep tonight

and n’er awake again;

and shackled to my soul, could take

the harbinger of pain;

that catalytic virus now

which burrows like a screw,

entwines itself like poison

on what was pure as dew.


For if I did not love you,

then I would never care,

and never would I worry,

or your pain then have to share;

but it is done... I love you;

and the dark side I must know

until the temporal course is through;

when all the pain will go.


Why is it thus, that love must have

its dark side like the Moon,

or rust beneath a painted sheen

which shows itself so soon?


Ah love! Could we conspire

to grasp this sorry scheme,

and mould it in a fashion more

conducive to our dream!


*      *      *



Down among the mind, so deep,

where perchance I did once seep

allowing me a Divine peep

beyond a tear I did not weep.


If once again I could but creep

in waking, or in blissful sleep,

or over mountains high and steep

on foot, or wing, or boat, or jeep.


I cannot chirp or sing or bleep

like a Blackbird, cheep, cheep, cheep;

alas ‘tis mine, and I must keep

as silent as that womb so deep.


Only the lesson I now can keep,

the lesson of the Cosmic bleep;

in its womb, so bright, so deep;

and my words are but a passing bleep.


But all eventually come to reap

the secret of that truth so deep;

and when they do, they too will keep

its secret from a world in sleep.


*      *      *



Where once the sight of death did sting

dark corners of my mind;

and trembling thoughts returned again

to moments left behind,

when laughter was as shallow

as soil upon my hands

and echoed into nothing

where naught of worth withstands.


What transformative perception

annihilates such a theme

of self-created darkness,

ephemeral as a dream?


What slight moment out of time

could have such mighty blow

to terminate a darkness

which took so long to grow?


Quo Vadis, words of intellect

when reasoning is done,

amid the lights of wisdom’s realm

where Essence is the sum.


Now laughter rings forever

despite what deeds are seen;

for the consciousness of wisdom

doth step outside its dream.


*      *      *



Daily I listen to the prattling mob;

who next to pillage, plunder, rob?

Oh what rustic glee is theirs,

in sterling, yen, stocks and shares.


Oh my love, how little they know,

of from whence they come, and to whither they go.

From which chaos do they stem?

Did thee who made the light make them!?


Why boil me again in time?

Pathetic word! Pathetic rhyme!

Who, in truth, doth suffer most,

the sleeping? or the risen host?


Why, oh why, must it be,

that they love they,

and I love thee?


That all must pass this way I guess,

to know that more, is more than less.

Thus, before I say “It’s so!”

Truly do I have to know—


Does pain endure

in length of time

equal to that

where fault was mine?...


part two


List my son, I tell you true,

‘tis not in me, ‘tis all in you.

Fly not against the swinging gate;

but ride the winds, whatever state.

Let out all that burns within,

that your heart may truly brim.

Only then, can you alight,

on wondrous music made of light.


I tell you that you profit not

from that which time was sent to rot.

But time unfolds its inner prize

when spirit lifts its sleeping eyes.


Creation is a gift so true,

That which I bestow on you.

The weeping is all mine you see,

if you negate the love that’s free.


Knowing this now let it flow;

let your self redeem its glow;

give away the love within;

and you and I will ever sing.


Thus, you have now seen the prize.

Go forth my son, and do likewise.

When next the gate swings in the breeze,

enjoy your time among my trees.

‘Tis not in me; ‘tis all in you,

the ink, the pen, for what is new.


*      *      *



Will it be by thought alone

that man will one day stride

in passion wrought of dignity

beyond the grasp of pride;


or is a means implanted

to satisfy such need,

in the blueprint of the helix;

paradise in a seed?


Whatsoever pushes thus

that motivates our prime

and sets the act in motion

of loves beyond our time.


What truth in distant visions

that cling where nought can touch;

the synthesis of seauton...

or evolution’s crutch?


However comes the kick start

that drives its forgone course,

how overcomes its problem

in eliminating remorse?


Is it man that meets his doom

despite the dreams he knew;

or is the memory shattered

when rising up anew!


*      *      *



Experience is the food of life

which ever onward flows;

understanding is digestion,

and wisdom that which grows.


But what is it that dwells beneath

the appearance of the day,

and integrates our freedom

with the deeper Cosmic way?


And in what realm, (beyond the form),

from which place all things flow,

will temporal mind return to seed,

and say... “Ah yes, I know”!?


That realm, it is a mystery,

the deepest mystery known,

and on returning then we know

it is our natural home.


Thus Man is made a meeting ground

of dimensions deep and wide,

and brought forth by a passion

which nought can subdivide.


The mystic centre is the root

from which then all things flow;

and in that deepest dwelling place

we learn—Ah yes, I know.


*      *      *



I think, above all other terms,

it might be best to say,

that God is Cosmic memory;

and all must pass that way.

But judgement of the outer things

is done by ones own soul,

in the last but one dimension;

and in knowledge of its goal.


And when each time it comes to bring

the works of temporal form,

and Universes vast and wide

beyond the gates of dawn,

for then it is encoded

upon the light that moves

like megabytes of software;

like music in the grooves.


No eye can see, no ear can hear,

no hand can come to touch;

but only that... that inner self,

can read the Cosmic brush.

That inner self which has its birth

before the dawn of time;

that part of you; that part of me,

which feels the Cosmic rhyme.


part two


Thus, God is not in heaven,

the place for you and me;

but works among the Suns and Moons

the sky, the winds, the sea.

For the highest is the lowest,

and bows its head so low;

and on its waves we wend our path,

its essences to know.


There is then a great sadness

among the scheme of things;

the ultimate in giving,

self-sacrifice... for things.

But you and I are not so,

and never come to know

the nature of ‘No Thing Extant’,

yet makes the whole thing glow.


When next a tear from smiling eyes

by gravity is bound

to wend its way on tender cheeks

with feeling but no sound,

then think on what awaits you

when our short toil is done

and once again we fall back to

the Glory, whence we come.


*      *      *



“The Power that be does not play dice”,

quothe Einstein in a rage;

but despite the fact that he thought so much

he had barely seen one page.

For you and I, the thing called mind,

can think and plan in time;

a faculty called freedom,

which makes decision mine.


The giving of such freedom

for our acts in temporal form

is how we learn our lessons,

and where dice become the norm.

The dice however, are loaded

by the powers velvet glove;

it cheats—by loading freedoms dice

with an essence we call love.

Thus love is Cosmic blackmail,

though nice as nice can be!

and I could not think of a better way

for the likes of you and me.

For who would go where love does push,

through darkness, fear, and pain

if choice we had to meditate

and reason found no gain?


And how could things be smarter

where freedom has to choose,

than making us an offer

which none can thus refuse!?

Such humour in creation

runs deep in space and time

and is itself an essence

from the Virgin Womb sublime.

And Love is but one method

to teach things we must know

and bring forth acts we would not choose

by setting our hearts aglow.

But sometimes, when it’s lacking,

the spirit glows quite dim;

and at such times then reason knows,

what really makes it sing.


*      *      *



There is nothing more abhorrent

in the whole vast scheme of things

than that of Man’s Elitism,

which the bell of ignorance rings.


False mystics and false prophets,

it has been warned before,

do not bring light into the world,

they crush it to the floor.


They elevate their selves so high

and power seek to mould

over children’s minds, and simple folk;

the story is so old.


Be wary of the men who talk

in public oh so loud;

they live not in reality

but an Egotistic shroud

of fear and inner nausea,

and would drag others down,

because they are so lonely

in the pool in which they drown.



‘Tis sad that they should suffer so;

and why? One cannot say.

But do not let them drag you down,

in the mire of their way.


*      *      *



Those that preach you’re born in sin

and live and die the same,

are the virus of the human mind;

they play the power game

of discord and disruption,

and unripe to be called MAN;

no greater stagnant pool of mire

was ever seen upon the land.


Avoid them like the plague of death;

their time on Earth is nigh

to go the way of Dodo’s;

and no tear for them we’ll cry.


Look not for the living among such dead;

nor sin within a child,

for their birth is of a truth so pure;

of a wisdom oh so mild.


On Earth we come in ignorance;

but cannot stay that way;

and you cannot learn the facts of life

without travelling through each day.


Seek no Earthly Establishment

to guide you through each day;

but seek the truth within your heart;

and you’ll not be led astray.


*      *      *



Temporal mind, like matter,

has its ‘Anti-Part’,

and when they meet...

.... you annihilate

and from this Universe

you depart.


‘Oh, woe is me,

this cannot be’!

I hear the chorus cry.

And what is more,

I tell you now,

you do not have to die.


The principles of life work well,

(there is no such thing as nature,

only the ‘nature of the way’)

and creation IS its nature.


To those who think I talk of things

of religion or mythology,

I tell them now, I only speak,

of Physics... and Psychology.


They see a mere reflection

imprinted in their mind,

and assume the shadow is the truth

of the depths which lay behind.


They measure shadows by the mile

and by the league or score,

but they know not that the shadows

are reflections of much more.


But as they grow and come to learn

the more that is their self;

then as they do they come to see

a greater divine wealth.


part two


A divine wealth in which the mind,

the observer of the scenes,

will come to know a wider range

of things beyond their dreams.


Creation was thus finished

before forms came to be:

but the temporal unfolding

is our learning how to see.


Look, a dance I give you,

but you must learn the tune

before we dance together,

before we can commune.


For I and thou together

are the music of the spheres;

we dance it here, we dance it there;

wherever it appears.


Creation can be painful,

but so can cutting teeth,

but you, not I, can be the judge

of that which lays beneath.


I tell you now, that all will know,

and in their own good time,

for each and every spirit,

is mine, is mine, is mine.


And none will be left barren,

of all there is to drink:

and none my love will go without,

no matter what you think.


*      *      *



Life is like a burning fire

that needs a draft to glow;

but the very nature of the fire

does cause the draft to flow.


Where then the fire without the draft,

or the draft without the fire;

where then the gods and highest truths

if minds did not aspire?


And even if there were no thing

to which one could attain,

ever then it still be wise

to assume of such a flame.


But stranger yet than fiction,

to which dreaming minds aspire,

there is indeed a reality

which is infinitely higher.


Do not ask me what it is;

for I only know it’s there;

deeper than the mind in bliss

midst paradise so fair.


Let truth be both my witness,

judge, and jury too,

when stating that such thing ‘IS SO’,

and at the root of you.


*      *      *



An irony, dear Omar,

amid knowledge of the heart,

we have more unanswered questions

than at the very start.

So many have been answered,

but each bring in their wake

an avalanche of questions

and understanding to awake.

Not questions of Transcendence

but problems on the Earth;

the knowledge of which way to turn

that harmony can girth

the fullness of such tiny globe

amid all walks of men;

their goals, and aspirations,

and when it’s done... what then?


Gnosis is a Wisdom,

though not easy to relay:

but it teaches not, nor dictates,

of our actions for today.

‘Tis knowledge of the Spirit,

and the Soul, and whence we come.

But the choice is ours (sometimes alas)

of things that must be done.


So many think they know what’s best,

but I must be so slow,

for about such things, alas I feel,

so much I do not know.

But come a time, I know there will,

when the knowledge of the heart,

permeates all men on Earth,

then each will play a part.

And each will have such knowledge,

(though a fraction of the sum),

and when pooled with all their Earth-mates;

a greater day will come.


*      *      *



When I was but two dozen years

and shed nought but childish tears,

weaned on war and poverty,

I came to know the knowledge tree.


I did not ask to bite and sup

from Eternity’s divine cup.

And that which was in there so grand,

by me, was made so crude, so bland.


For twice ten years I gnawed away,

negating that which lights the day;

‘twas all a passing whim of mind,

and I must leave it all behind !


But then, again, amid the day,

all entropy did fade away;

and that, to which I would not come,

came to me... in daylights sun.


Never again will I choke on tears

that hang like weights on so few years;

let Eternity see me no more,

I am not fit to pass its door!


part two


I do not mind if I should go;

no more to be, no more to know;

no more to dwell beyond the white,

no more to dance in wisdom’s light.


The power that you gave to me;

to judge the womb of Eternity;

my love, I say I am not he,

fit enough to dwell with thee.


That which you have given me,

to know, to keep, to always be,

is more than I can sup this day;

nought can I give that will ever pay.


But this I say, before I go;

knowing no more there is to know;

truly was it so well done;

as befitting such a one.


That which thou has given me

I offer back in a love that’s free.

Thus, you taught me, in advance,

the nature of the Cosmic dance.


*      *      *


(The Consummatum Incarnate.)


Why bother I with lengthy books

of never ending prose

when a few short simple verses

displays the truth that grows.

For time’s not made for talking,

but listening to the waves;

the music of the divine spheres;

the dividend that pays.


But my story’s not yet over,

there’s more now yet to tell;

but not of other worldly things

like Paradise, or Hell.

But now I think I’m beaten;

alas what can I say

of that final thing I saw

when the last cobweb blew away?


part two


Life’s not just for Paradise,

or places out of time,

for there’s something even stranger yet,

that wont fit in a rhyme.

Just when I thought I’d seen it all,

and whilst sitting on a hill,

I saw, quite all around me,

the final Cosmic thrill.


Twas like all love ascended

upon the Earth that day;

and the Essences of Paradise

arrived on Earth... to stay.

For twenty years I’d questioned

the reason for my birth;

but then the pieces hit the mark,

when Paradise came to Earth.


There was not much that I could do,

my self was all... ‘undone’,

and liberated from its chain,

I danced, with One... with One!?

For twenty years I’d wondered

what more there was to do:

but on second thoughts, I’ll keep it!

And best that you do too.


*      *      *



Most times we are pathetic

and grovel like a Dog,

desiring plastic trinkets,

snorting like a Hog.

Some want a god to save them;

from themselves no doubt;

some want the same, for ever;

Eternity for a lout!

Some think the best thing that there is

is to be loved for ever more;

they have not learned the lesson yet,

that ‘TO LOVE’ is even more.


But time and tide will turn all minds;

and that they can well trust;

until such time the flowers bloom

within them; as they must.

For then they’ll wish to live again,

and not for themselves this time:

but in order that ‘This Thing’ can ‘be’,

among this world divine.

But let us, in the meantime,

walk upon the hills,

and dance and sing together

and share those special thrills.

Notice that this web today

with frost and sun combined

like the never ending story;

just like ourselves: entwined!


*      *      *



 (Dedication to William Blake.)


Tiger! Tiger! burning dim

wrought of pain, racked in sin;

what primordial hand or eye

beguiles thee to rise and fly.

In what depths beyond the skies

lights the flame, attracts thine eyes.

On what wings do thou take flight

from rushing dawn, to silent night.


What the power, what the love,

that lifts thee like a wingéd Dove.

What the sight that halts thy breath

and guides thee through a temporal death.

What the singer, what the song,

that guides thy feet from stepping wrong;

and what rhythm thy heart dost pound

what the nature of its ground.


That silent love beyond the white,

beyond the pain, beyond the fight,

which strains thy sinews in its rise,

like Phoenix to eternal skies.

Tiger! Tiger! thee I know;

in darkness, cold, and winters snow;

the die is cast, your path is right;

Tiger! Tiger! you’ll burn bright.


*      *      *



Drink deep of truth young flower,

lest you should come to be

a half baked prophet of your time;

drunk on Eternity.


And when you have seen Paradise,

and for the world you would shed tears;

then mark a word of warning

say nought... for twenty years!


The gnosis of Eternity,

though knowledge so profound,

think not you know the sum of truth,

till you see where it is bound.


The Mutual Convergence you must know

before you come to see

the reason for creation

amid Divine temporality.


The knowledge of the heart alone,

confined within its ground,

is not the sum of all the truth

which in the Cosmos will be found.


Where half baked gnostics sing a song

of dualistic creed,

and the world is a prison for the Soul;

more knowledge you will need!


A little learning is a dangerous thing

if the door on truth is closed,

and further understanding

by your Soul is then opposed.


part two


Though your Mind may dwell in Paradise,

no matter how profound,

in time you’ll find it wise to keep,

your feet upon the ground.


So many mystics dwell in awe

yet have not come to see

the reciprocal convergence here on Earth,

and Divine Temporality.


Where all is one, and one is all,

a mere lesson for a boy;

while MAN is now the affirmation

of a vast Eternal joy.


There is a great temptation

to sing of what you know;

but before you close the book on truth,

then see the world aglow.


There are such things enfolded

in the world you walk upon;

and when the flower opens

you’ll sing another song.


‘Tis one to know the singer;

‘tis two to know the song;

‘Tis three my fine young flower;

not to sing it wrong.


*      *      *



Thus it is, the analogy,

that the ‘Cave of shadows’ is true;

but alas we never know it

until we see the other view

of light beyond the light we know,

and in temporal fields returned.

And whence comes such a time on Earth

when the inner light so true,

by each and every being

is prominently in view?


But still I say, dear Omar,

and unto you my love,

me thinks it’s not the time on Earth

where such truth fits like a glove

while the sacred Cow of profit

rings its hollow bell;

exploits through fear and violence,

and intimidates then of hell.


I understand that in due course

such things will come to be

when the seed of inner movement

engulfs temporality.


But the climate of the temporal mind,

me thinks is not yet ripe,

but wallows still in Somnus,

in a depth which is unripe.


part two


The time is not yet ready

to reap the Golden Fleece:

return then, to your magic realm;

and rest... in Heavenly peace!


Sometimes I’ve cursed the day I saw

beyond the temporal tree,

and the innocence of beauty

amid this worlds poverty.


Life could be so simple

if such things we never knew;

or observers of such wisdom

at least were not so few.


Where knowledge is but second hand

at best it makes one think;

but when you know; you can compare;

and that is pain... to drink.


You cannot be affected

by what you do not know;

but that which you have been in

which set the heart aglow

can never be forgotten,

negated or put down,

and that is why the mystics weep

when this world they look around.


part three


Think not such knowledge is all fun

while on this world we dwell;

for if you care to sup of truth

then you must drink it well.

Knowledge which is second hand,

like an angelus that rings,

offers knowledge of the truth,

without the pain it brings.


Enjoy your time among the trees

when next the gate swings in the breeze!

But times there are, which sometimes come,

‘tis easier said, my friend, than done.

Thus, I would cast such Wisdom

many fathoms deep;

that only those who long for truth

its knowledge would then reap.


But neither do I have to,

for it is already done,

by one that is much wiser,

and to which all things must come.


But knowledge which is second hand,

like an angelus that rings,

offers knowledge of the truth

where the child of Wisdom sings.

But to seek within religion

for the singer and the song

is much like opening vintage wine,

with the aid of a nuclear bomb.


And when at last your reason knows

no more then can be done,

and offers up its being.....


“When you need Me... I will come”!


*      *      *



The wind does not blow

for the blowing is the wind;

and no water exists in the sea;

there is no space where there are no things

and no paradise exists without me.


There is no time with but one event,

an event which does not alter;

the wind does not blow

for the blowing is the wind

and the sea contains no water.


The light does not shine,

for the shining is the light,

and the knowing is the mind;

and nought is made ahead of me,

and nought is made behind.


The wind does not blow

for the wind is but the blowing,

and the sea contains no water,

there is no time without events;

and no mind without the knowing.


The flow contains no river,

the river contains no flow;

for the flowing is the river,

and the mind can do nought but know.


Without a lover nought could be loved,

and yet love is never abated;

for the love that exists in paradise

is the love for no thing created.

And when you know the truth of this

then you will come to see

that everything and no thing

are the same great mystery.


*      *      *



When the insubstantial pageant fades

and leaves not a rack behind

of things that come and go in time,

other than my mind;

then maybe it can come to pass

that I’ll return to see

such quintessential essence in form

as the river Badgworthy.


And like the slopes that rise and fall

along the Quantock ridge;

the mists that ring the Exmoor combes

and the Barle at Landacre bridge.

The misty paths that garland the feet

of Dunkery at dawn,

the solitude of Anstey plain,

like Paradise redrawn.


Where best to be, I think at times,

in Paradise or here,

among the finished products’ fields

where purpose is made clear?

Such choice is one so hard to make;

and glad that it’s not mine;

but would be nice, me thinks, again

to come here one more time.


Be then in no hurry

to return from whence you came!

so much there is to do on Earth

which sets the heart aflame.

The mystic path of life entails

such wonders thus to see;

and all the things that come our way!

such...  Serendipity!!!


*      *      *



So many things life has to show,

and things we have to come to know.

Thus, beliefs, we must abort;

beliefs are of no real import.


Only knowledge reaps a prize,

and from darkness makes us rise,

when knowledge turns to understanding

and makes potential quite outstanding.


But knowledge needs a helping hand

to make us truly understand;

for knowledge alone is but data

and does not, of itself, make us greater.


And that which knowledge has to wed,

be guided by and ever fed,

lest it reaps a Technic prison,

needs the guiding hand of Wisdom.


So too with knowledge of one’s self,

for knowledge brings a growing wealth,

of harmony and one accord

which makes the heart and mind applaud.


Beliefs however, have no gain;

and do, at times, drive one insane;

as can many other drugs,

like a garden of flowers infested with Slugs.


*      *      *



I told it at the outset,

and I’ll say it one more time,

that the power is within you

to make this world divine.


Seek not the grail beyond you

for the magic is inside;

the deepest root within you,

loves eternal cosmic bride.


The marriage is outside of time;

before the stars did shine;

before time tore asunder

the repose of the divine.


Wait not then for Paradise,

and all glory yet to come,

for it’s even now within you

and the first thing ever done.


Do not believe the truth of this

but seek it for yourself;

for life on Earth is far too short

to miss such Divine wealth.


And so, when times are cold and hard,

and the winters chill is rife,

gather the Babes around the hearth,

and speak to them... of LIFE.


Fire the flame within them,

as the coals do warm the hand,

and tell them of from whence they came,

the Divine Eternal Land.


*      *      *




Seek not, like fools, a being

that stands betwixt the two;

an intermediary person

twix the Ultimate power and you.


Believe what you will, it matters not,

for you will come to see,

that beyond the gate of Paradise

there is only ‘IT’ and ‘THEE’.


And your ORBIT is of clockwise

in the stillness of that dome

of Eternal light, and love, and truth,

the place which is your home.


No Man, no time, no thing at all,

can ever come between

your self which exists in Paradise;

the greatest vision ever seen;

and the ultimate truth of all things

that ever come to be

within the fields of Paradise and temporality.


There are, of course, such beings,

wiser than you or me

who walk the paths of time in form,

and so many things they see.


But they do not come before you

in the chain of creations flow;

and of things, and truth in absolute,

they know.... what you will know.


*      *      *



How often have I wished I could

describe the passion there

to willing minds upon the Earth

so they could come to share,

whilst even not yet knowing

by knowledge of first hand

of the ultimate Cosmic passion

in the Divine Eternal Land.


It is folly to confuse that love

for love we know on Earth,

for the latter is a shadow,

though of deepest Cosmic worth.

But the passion there is potent

and would burst the very seams

of a human mind incarnate;

beyond its wildest dreams.


If love were an explosive,

then the passion in that place

could blow itself to pieces

and create all time and space.

But the passion which I mention

is but in you and me!

God only knows the volume

which exists objectively!


part two


But passion is not quite like love

as we know of it in TIME,

for our love on Earth is for ‘something’

created thus in TIME.


But our passion in the virgin womb

is a furnace not a spark,

and directed not at Paradise,

but something in the dark;

something uncreated,

deeper down than me;

a thing —NO-THING— created;

neither Paradise nor me.


The problem in such dialogue

is that here we stop and think;

but in that realm of passion

we simply dine and drink

a feast of creative power

that no human mind can say!

but everything created

will come to KNOW; that day.


Of that I can well promise,

by way of that loves flow;

that nought there is created

that does not come to KNOW.


*      *      *



All science is knowledge,

and that is a fact

but there’s more to creation

than physical act.


All knowledge ain’t science,

and that too is a fact,

thus wise to keep

your cognition intact.


But how would you like

to write me a tract,

or even a brief resume in fact,

on the nature of life if

you were to subtract

such things brought

forth with great impact

where love between two things

thence interact

and write the unwritten love contract?


Will science come to re-enact

the first great wondrous creative act?

But by the same token we must never detract

from the gift of science and its great impact.


Just keep in mind

when you learn of a fact

that it is most wise

not to overreact.


*      *      *



The Mind is like rare taste buds

that once upon a time

required sweet and sickly things;

and thought them quite sublime.


But later still, when wiser,

it requires something more;

a little less simplistic;

with more substance at its core.


There comes a time moreover,

when the food which makes it sing

is the subtle pulse of truth itself;

and the essence of ‘NO THING’;


The question I would ask those,

who claim this cannot be:

How could such hunger then be quenched

if no food were in the sea?


But truly do I say it’s done;

and all kinds of food are there;

from simple loves

and simple likes;

to ones which are so rare.


*      *      *



The ‘Psyche’ is a name we use

which is not too well defined;

but as good a name as any

for the vortex of the mind.

The vortex of emergence

through energy, form, and time;

from the skin which wraps the body

to the depths of mind sublime.


The Psyche’s like a building

with a lift shaft to all floors;

and that which travels in the lift

and goes through all such doors

is the consciousness of being;

that thing which says ‘I’m me’;

and in its path it modulates

the forms of energy.


The mode of minds transition

does set the being free

from temporal forms wherein indwelt

throughout temporality.


Thus through the dark transition

only Soul and Spirit dwell,

and when they cross-examine

Men call that portion ‘HELL’.


But then amid the final gate

the Soul (a kind of shell),

will melt and leave the Spirit be,

in its home; where done so well.


*      *      *



Mysticism is the path

to which understanding is the goal,

where the centre of all things that be,

and the centre of the Soul,

are thus the self-same centre,

and all of one accord,

with a Wisdom which no words can say,

and no books can thus record.


It does not defy Man’s reason,

nor runs counter to the heart,

for it is the realm, where all that is,

have their Cosmic start.

But know of this,

well in advance,

for ‘tis a lonely path,

and when you come to know the truth:

of old myths you will then laugh.


And know of this fact also,

that the Mystic path’s not learned

from books or group discussions,

but through experience it is earned.

And that which mind experiences

from the ARKONS deep within,

are self-explicit archetypes

of where the MIND has been.


But beyond symbolic visions

and where time is past and done

therein, and there alone is found

the knowledge of the One.


*      *      *



When I was young I listened

to many an authoritative voice;

sometimes it was pleasure;

and often with no choice.

They told me I should listen

to what they had to say,

in order that their wisdom

would pass to me that day.


But now I say, dear teachers,

(and I doubt that you’ll rejoice),

now you will be the pupils;

and I will be the voice!

There is a saying, oh so true,

from times so long now past;

that those who put themselves ‘up front’

will be, in fact, the last.

Thus life is very strange indeed,

and in so many ways,

but Humour is an essence deep

in dimensions; Cosmic days.


And when they say

“you have a mind”,

then ask what does the owning?

For they talk in ways like children;

and ignorance are still cloning.


*      *      *



It is not enough, my friend, to say

“I think, therefore I am”!

For you are that which IS and WAS,

before thinking began!

It is quite safe, of course, to say

“I think, therefore I am”,

just as it is to say that you

“exist because you can”!


But even in this temporal mode

such knowledge you can reap;

that you are still existing

while you are sound asleep!

Do not be so foolish

and utter things that way,

for it gives such little credence

to other things you say.


But of the existential gap

where Mind and Brain do dwell,

you could not answer the paradox;

and you said so, oh so well.


But try not thus to push the Cart

to realms you do not know;

just wait, and see, for it will come,

and life, will you, thus show.


*      *      *



A question is a hole in mind,

a negative Cosmic place,

in which an answer has to grow

like a positive charge, surface.

Ask and it will be answered;

for it has no choice you see!

But the choice which does the asking

is nought but you and me.


Before a question’s ever asked,

the answer lies thus made:

it’s first among the scheme of things

in the mystic realms arcade.

But a jug is only a carrier

when something lies inside;

but if it is not opened...

then nought, in there, will bide.


Life is one long answer

to all the questions asked;

but if we do not ask them

the answers then are masked.

For down our throats life does not push

its answers thus to see;

but love, oh love, the knowing;

and it will come... to thee.


*      *      *



What sayest thou, sweet memory,

how choose you what to know,

amid the host of many,

the essences which glow?

What if once, and chance could be,

to venture back once more,

to taste again those moments;

such essence to adore.


And would that time, if passed again

with knowledge of the years,

be dulled a jot in hindsight

of suffering, and tears?

Could it add one farthing

to how it was then known;

or is the essence greater

because the bird has flown?


The moving finger having writ

leaves not a rack behind,

of pain, and tears, and hunger;

just the good remains in mind.

What wisdom is your judgement;

power of what will be;

such Phoenix of the ashes

which stay for all to see.


Pain carries no such essence

which lingers on in part;

yet still we’re moved in memory

of that which stirred the heart.

And so it is in judgement,

where once we all must go;

Twas not the deeds that set our course;

but how we learned to glow.


*      *      *



Freedom from the Divine


In Paradise there’s no Body,

no smell, no taste, no touch,

no heat, no cold, no memory,

but one loves it, oh so much!

But within, there is pure vision,

with eyes that truly see;

the vision is binocular,

and thus it’s in 3D.


But what the mind, and what the eyes,

that do not see their self;

such things are made; of ‘no thing’ known,

yet know such Divine wealth.

And that which happens out of time;

then all the time that’s made,

would never suffice to tell the tale

of what, in there, is made.


The realm no hand may ever touch,

no physical eye may see,

no breath may pass through panting lungs,

in the womb of Eternity.

And what, my friend, did come to pass

that this may come to be?

And the miracle, dear Horatio,

that it’s made, for you, and me!


And what, amid the temporal life,

do you offer in return?

And of its truth, my friend, I fear,

that you, do fear to learn.

Yet none the less it’s yours, and mine:

made for you, and me;

and nought it does expect of you;

for you...  are truly free.


*      *      *



A sperm, just like a Human frame,

a mountain stream or dust,

just like Leptons, Quarks and all,

are here because they must.

But the interaction of such things

do not bring forth Life,

because they are not conscious,

and know nothing of the strife.


They are but cogs within the wheel,

that fit together well,

that manufacture things in form,

that we, out here, may dwell.

The cogs of form are plain to see,

but they do not cause ignition;

so what, they ask, can it be,

that gives these cogs cognition?


The assumption is a false one,

for they are dead as dead can be,

a Human body’s not alive,

it just carries you and me.

But even we, despite our pride,

are here because we must;

but unlike cogs of lesser need,

we do not turn to dust.


part two


Your Chess computer toils all day

but never knows a thing,

it never cries a tear of love,

and never wants to sing.

And never will it write a verse

of what is learned in life

and never will it need a hug,

like a husband or a wife.


Never will it gaze at stars

that shine throughout all time,

and never will it say “My love,

creation is divine”!

And yet, in all creation,

the penultimate mystery,

is that these cogs exist at all.


I wonder, what they be?!!!


*      *      *



It has been said that Mystics

negate the world of form;

but I tell you that is not the case;

nor was so at the dawn.


One does not choose this Knowledge;

it is an event in time,

that takes the mind beyond all form

to show of what is thine.

‘Tis not a religion, or belief,

and nought to do with faith;

it is evolution of the Mind,

and knowing of its place.

It is the act ‘RE-LEGIO’,

reunion with the realm,

reunion with the knowledge,

at the Cosmic passions helm.


A Mystic mind is one that knows

its restitution of repose;

and gives not a damn what men believe

whilst children on their mother’s sleeve.


A Mystic wants no power,

or glory in men’s thought;

nor ponders about profit

which their scheming has them brought


part two


Such trifles are mere shadows

of infantile whim;

and they build their castles on a sand

that runs in depth so thin.

But the Knowing Mind has thus returned

To from whence it came that day,

to learn that there is more to life

than is known by the minds of they

who scheme for a mere profit

then wave their banner high

to show the world they’re lovely;

but alone, my friend, they cry!


And religions are for children

who feel not safe on Earth,

but in truth the castigators

know nought of this worlds worth;

nor do they know the depths of pain,

or fear, and the unknowing;

But they will in time they can be sure,

for their minds are still yet growing.


Religions are a poisonous vine,

for beliefs are the virus that entwine

the spirit in entropic thought;

from the love of power they were wrought.

The Mystic loves the world of form;

of that you rest assured;

but it’s not the only extant form

which by the Mystic is adored.


*      *      *



There once were two fine Poets,

who sang a pretty song;

who walked upon the Quantocks

which I now walk upon.

How interesting it may have been

if they had seen what I have seen;

or if the power which in them lay

were given thus to me today.


Sometimes I think life gets it wrong,

or a little muddled mid such throng.

But then again, I do not know,

for mystery dwells wherever I go!

And if there were no mystery

in life still yet to see,

then I would not think it fitting

for beings such as we.


For only where there’s mystery

can Mind then still aspire,

and by its loves be driven

to incarnate forms much higher.

Perhaps life is just saying

‘Although I let you see

a piece of this, a piece of that,

and slowly, by degree.


‘Tis only through the living it

that all must come to see;

and nought else can give such truth away;

for the mystery’s mine you see!

And being thus, the way IT IS,

sometimes desires grate;

and we wish we could thus push it;

lest it be too late.


*      *      *



What writes the book of the Human genome

that sets our temporal mould,

whilst we dwell upon this world

with mysteries yet untold?


And how many pages in that book

are blank... for us to write;

by actions, and reactions,

of what we wish to bite?


Do the errors of the parents

manifest among the child;

just as they do with passed on thoughts

which often make us wild?

How much is writ from ignorance,

how much from self-desire;

and what the content of design

that makes the Mind aspire?


The ‘Book’ contains of where it’s been;

but how much of where it’s going?

And as we now have conscious will,

what then of seeds we’re sowing?


And what untapped potential

lies dormant; waiting yet

to modulate the framework

by actions we beget?

There is more to life than meets the eye;

far more than is yet seen;

thus, never underestimate

the power of your dream.


*      *      *



Like you, I have met many

who do not make us smile;

they make you feel like life on Earth

never was worthwhile;

as though the Cosmic task had now

failed in its course

or moved to another project

with less to give remorse.


So many seeking happiness,

yet know not where to look;

and if not found amid the world

they settle for a book!


But who, amid such dismal throng,

give an ounce away,

of the thing which they are seeking

for themselves that day?


It is quite true that happiness

is not quite what lifes about,

but it is an essential quality

which is hard to be without.

But neither is it difficult

to create it by your will;

and to give... it costs you nothing!

And if YOU don’t... who then will?


part two


But then again, once in a while,

a passing face will beam,

like the innocence of childhood;

the answer to a dream.

For Man on Earth to be Divine

he does not become a god,

nor the power of creation,

nor waves a magic rod.


To be Divine he simply lives

and emits the spark within;

the spark of Nous Eternal,

which came to Earth with him.


But that, of course, IS MAGIC;

that you can make folk smile,

by bringing forth within you

to make this world worthwhile.

It is quite true that Earthly forms

can give such thing away;

but how much more if conscious minds

did as much each day?


And surely, I would ask you,

that a conscious mind can do

what a Tree, or Sunset,

can ever come to do!


*      *      *



Reason is a troubled thing

which has nowhere to lie its head;

it worries while it’s still alive

about the time it will be dead.

It splits all things to kingdom come

in search of what they are;

like taking all the inside out

to see what makes a car.


But when the bits alone do stand,

there’s nothing there to see,

for the world is made of structured things,

including you and me.

And what then is so charming

with a lump of energy

that does not make a cup of soup,

a mountain, or a tree?


Poor reason’s never satisfied

to sit and stare in awe;

it gallops in obsession

and ever wanting more.

But like all other faculties

it is a tool to use;

providing, like so many things,

we learn not to abuse.


Things are made for using,

each in a certain way;

we would not turn the bread we eat

into a bale of hay.

But that is just what reason does

unless we hold the reins

and give a tug to steer the thing

from mangling up our brains.


part two


When reason tries to dig out truth

and the nature of all things,

then let it keep one wary eye

on the tune emotion sings.

For emotion is the first to come

and never fades away;

no reason exists in paradise

where emotion has its day.


And what is this ‘E’ motion

which drives the inner ‘me’?

On its own it is the square

of M times that of C.

But what does all that tell you

of what it’s like in hell?

And it is not reason after all

which in paradise sings so well!


For reason is a mode of thought

which joins things in a row;

but thinking is an act in time,

where only time can flow.

But deeper yet, in structure,

the Cosmic way will show,

that there is no time for thinking

in the realm where we must go.


part three


No time it takes however,

for E motion thus to flow,

for the direction of its travel

is ‘up’ from down below,

and not along the linear line

which time thus has to go;

nor beamed down from the sky above,

like idiots claim it’s so.


Time and space are two things,

not one as some lay claim;

both reason and emotion

are facets of the game;

each with a purpose to its own

and harmony in the whole,

but isolate just one thing made,

and you have not got the whole.


Paradise would have no purpose

if there were no world in time;

and all the worlds that ever exist

need their roots divine.

You cannot have a left hand

if there is no right,

for a hand alone claps silence,

and no thing could then shine bright.


*      *      *



A Cosmic principle, so deep at root,

of which Man’s lost realisation,

is a principle within all realms;

it’s known as ‘AFFECTATION’.

It is a form of cause and effect

but works in two directions;

a cause cannot effect a thing

without reciprocal affectations.


You cannot lift a feather,

or journey forth to Mars,

without using Cosmic energy;

which thus brought forth the Stars.

The using of such energy

will effect a change in TWO;

just as it is with food you eat,

which becomes a part of YOU.


But on a deeper level

of the self-same Cosmic flow,

there is an effect; which now forgot;

which all should thus well know.

Such principle is Cosmic food,

so deep and so profound,

such food is found wherever you look;

in sky, or sea, or ground.


‘Tis not food for the body,

nor is it food for thought,

but it is a food of Cosmic growth;

for the Spirit; it is brought.

It is an interaction

deep between your self

and a blade of grass, or flower,

natures deepest hidden wealth.


part two


There is an age old saying

that you cannot live by bread alone;

but the food of which is mentioned

seems now to be unknown.

You will not find such diet

emanating from a Car,

or virtual reality,

or stored in Vintners jar.


Such things are fine; within their place;

but are not Cosmic food;

an exclusive diet of such things

will cause the Soul to brood

and starve of inner movement;

motivation, and deep thrills;

and the food you lack can’t be replaced

by magic pots of pills.


The answer is to take a rest;

go walk among the hills,

the trees, the streams, the rivers;

(the Cosmic magic pills).

They will effect a cause on you

with food your Soul does need:

communication from the depths,

which activate the seed;

just like a Rose needs Sunshine,

water, soil, and room;

to make it grow in temporal form,

as is done in the Virgin Womb.


One day you’ll find that around you

the deepest Cosmic love

radiates like magic

from a tree; the ground; above;

they shine like jewels in Sunlight,

as the enfolded thus unfurls;

just as it is in Paradise

to lay bare creations pearls.


*      *      *



What meaning has the Universe?

Such questions men do ask!

while in the dark of Somnus

where ignorance does bask.

What is the meaning of a Tree,

a Rose bud or the Sun?

The Universe has no meaning;

for it got it right in one.

Only words have meanings,

which point to other things;

but things, well they have purpose,

a function which it brings.

So do not ask the question—

“What meaning that I’m here”?

But, “What now is my purpose,

and what course shall I now steer”?

The mind is made for thinking,

and knowing what there is;

and of endings and beginnings,

and what there is betwixt.

Awareness, they say,

is the steam off the brain,

or the smoke that the fire brings;

How little they know of what they are,

and the nature of such things!

For Consciousness, the Trimorph,

and beyond the senses realm,

is not the cart or Donkey,

but the driver at the helm.

No puppet is the mind you see;

it does not dance to strings;

it only dances to the tune

that love and wisdom brings.

But if you would, by others will,

evacuate your mind;

such choice is yours, and time is yours,

to leave the truth behind.


*      *      *



Before my time is over

and form must pass away,

I’ll sing a song of something

I learned along the way.


When winter’s at its deepest

and brings some time for thought,

then ask yourself the question—

“What is there to be sought”?


Do not assume you know what’s there

before you really know;

for the flames of self-creation

will never make you glow.


There is, however, something

which flows from deep within,

and when it hits the surface—

My God, you’ll really sing.


I think that one should mention,

leastwise for myself,

that hearing of such wonders

of the nature’s hidden wealth,

that if I had heard talk of,

before knowing them myself,

I would have thought the speaker

was in need of mental health.


But as they say—’you live and learn’;

and how true that saying is!

and how many years I waited

before saying that ‘it is’.


*      *      *



What is the nature, and Man’s relation to

that from which flows all creation?

Toy-boy, Pawn, or whipping stone,

or silly pratt that loves to moan?

But truly do I say that’s not

why Man’s becoming was begot;

for Consciousness at stage of Man

is a central part of the eternal plan.


In order that all things can be,

the Cosmos bids us ‘come and see’!

Through paradox, pain, and mystic trance

we are but a part of the Cosmic dance.


A part, by which, perchance is grand,

for we are in fact life’s true right hand.

Through us the truth does manifest;

and knowledge of all virtues blessed.


Thus, from Somnus we must leap

if fruits of life we wish to reap.

From whence we come and whither we go,

only lovers come to know.


If thou would work the cosmic plan

and integrate the light of Man,

let passion flow completely through,

raise no bar to what is new.


Do not let the mind stagnate

in envy, pride, entropic hate.

For truly when you come to see,

thou shall wobble at thy knee,

as to how important is your lot,

and why, in truth, you were begot.


*      *      *



Man is not judged by what he knows,

but by the depth his spirit glows.

Not by the acts of which are done,

but by that which made them come.

About it and about, it’s all the same,

the nature of the Cosmic game;

for that which manifests outside

is but the flower of the inner tide.


But time and tide do not withstand

the inner drive of what is planned;

and that which at one time glows dim,

a greater truth will one day ring.


The light within a man of light

rests not against the inner fight,

ever on it fights its best,

until its union is at rest.


Thus, a man is judged and known

by what degree the seed has grown;

but nature looks not at the act,

but only that which makes it fact.

Thus when you give the world a kiss,

truly nature does not miss,

that which made the kiss come out!

That’s what judgements all about.


‘Tis not what you did, ‘tis why you did it.


*      *      *



There comes a time, amid our span,

when we are called to go;

to learn a vital lesson

of things we HAVE to know.

The ‘Gnosis of  Direction’

of what we must become,

that the multitude incarnate

is in concordance with the One.


The pleasures of our freedom

now exhausted in our wake,

until we learn that freedom

has other roads to take.

For cogs in isolation

amount to nothing more

than cogs in isolation!

with no product in their chore.


But working as one unit,

and with knowledge of their heart,

then the product of the units

exceeds the sum of parts.

In Man such freedom is divine

that he may fall or rise,

(while in the life among the forms)

to the dungeons... or the skies.


part two


To miss the target is to fall,

and to hit it is to rise;

and the target thus in question

is the love we utilise.


But if one child along the way

fails to rise and shine,

and to bring forth that within them,

then the fault is YOURS and MINE.


We cannot use what is not there,

but the power IS within;

and to liberate that child of love,

will make Creation Sing.


The Gnosis of that wisdom

resides in one and all,

and to find it is to rise and shine,

but to lose it... is to fall.


Bring forth the love in every child;

that they may come to be,

a reflection of their greater self,

which exists... in Eternity.


*      *      *



There is a Woman that I know,

who’s as simple as could be;

she knows not but a thousand words,

or that one plus two makes three.


She knows not what she’s doing here,

or from whither she came, or why;

she could not sing a song in tune

no matter how she’d try.


She could not ponder on the depths

of what things are; like some;

and neither could she argue her case,

or justify deeds done.


And yet, and yet, I say in truth,

no greater thing could be,

for the Love she has for a helpless child,

shames the likes of me.


Many a wise man have I known,

who when, compared with she,

are but the dimmest flicker,

in the light of Eternity.


For they chose love when it made them feel

as good as good could be;

but SHE, IS, love, of the deepest kind,

with its pain for all to see.


part two


The love for a child so helpless,

that gives nothing in return,

is the kind of love eternal,

that Man, will one day learn.


Such love is not a joy to feel;

the dark side, some would say;

and yet it is the greatest thing

seen by the light of day.


Do not tell a soul to love,

for there’s nothing they can do

to instigate an essence

and make it flow so true.


But you and I do not create

the Essence we call love,

for it’s there, inside, already done!

like the Stars that shine above.


But you and I must seek its source,

that mystic source within;

and then liberate its power,

to make creation sing.


No reason we need for such a task;

so seek none, for it’s true,

that the greatest thing that ever was,

is there... at the root of YOU.


*      *      *



The Child is the Father of the Man;

like the seed brings forth the tree;

and the seed’s in the ground of Paradise

beyond the Temporal Sea.


Such ground is where you ‘come to be’;

the place of birth for you and me,

but something lies much deeper yet,

in a form of strange duality.


Duality is Emergent

with a ‘chord’ right from the heart,

to all the things that ever exist

right at the very start.


And the starting point is conscious,

and that you can well trust;

but do not measure by your girth;

and things ARE because they MUST.


And thus your ground of being

in which you come to be,

is not the bottom of the well

but the root of you and me.


Beyond that place we cannot go;

but of it you can sing,

and even though the mystery lasts;

you know, in truth, no other thing.


*      *      *



I was once asked to state the place,

co-ordinates, so to say;

wherein the realm of Paradise

could be found upon that day!

—”So where, in all the Universe,

is the realm of which you talk;

beyond the sky; beyond the stars;

or is it all just balk”?


The question is misleading,

and stems from narrow mind;

for within the bounds of temporal form,

no Paradise you’ll find.

For where it lies you need not know,

for you do not have to walk!!!

and what kind of fool, about such things,

would ever dare to talk

unless they’d really seen it

and knew of what they say

of the most profound creation

that came to be this way?


Such questions are misleading

yet in another way,

for the questioner is seeking proof

of the place we go that day.


But you and I cannot prove;

‘tis not for us to do;

and the acts you did from knowledge,

would not then be virtue.


part two


So I answered with a question—

“So where’s the Universe found?”

To which the questioner answered

“Out there... and all around”!

I told him, with an honest smile,

that when you’re in that ground,

“Likewise it is with Paradise;

out there, and all around”!


And yet, in all their wisdom,

they cannot even say,

the Co-ordinates of the Universe

which they live in...  every day!!!


‘Tis funny when they act so smart;

it leaves much room to fall;

but they will ponder further

while they wait in LIMBO’S hall.

For then they’ll ask some questions,

without their tongue in cheek;

while thinking they are stranded

up the Cosmic creek.


My love, it’s all so funny;

your secrets are well hid;

while cretins seek, with hammers blow,

to try and prise the lid.


*      *      *



The Cosmos of Creation

is all that’s ever done;

the past, existing present,

and all things yet to come.

The universe however,

of which we see today,

is but a passing moment

in one mansion of that way.


Of Protons and Electrons

creation is not made,

for on the ground of Consciousness,

creation is thus laid.

The Mind is not a cog of form

which churns amid a ground

of ricocheting atoms

and energy thus bound.


The Universe of form you know,

through which you pass this day,

as even the one beyond it,

will all thus pass away.

But the realm which lies beyond them,

from which they all take form,

is the permanent creation

beyond the gate of dawn.


They are like ripples on a pond,

or the hard rim of a wheel,

but the central hub which holds them,

therein, all things are still.

‘Tis much like a transmitter,

which sends the Cosmic bleep

that manufactures things of form,

and time which runs so deep.


Yet all the things in temporal fields,

no matter how far flung,

have spokes which hold them to the hub

where all things are there one.

And down that spoke you’ll slide one day,

as I have done before;

as so do all things in their course,

to know that there is more—


part two


—more to life than taking

all things we come to see;

but knowing of their purpose,

and your place in Eternity.

But you can now well doubt it,

and question it like me;

for that’s the way the mind will grow,

and truly come to see.


Creation is trimorphic,

even you and me,

but perception is dualistic;

and thus the mystery.

The Trimorphic Protennoia

brings forth both you and me,

and everything that ever exists

in time, and Eternity;

like the Sea brings forth rain water

that falls on hill and plane;

but the Sea creates no water,

for creation’s another domain.

But only in the final gate,

before the void does come,

will you know Trimorphic Mind

enshrined there.... all in ONE.


And so I say, dear Omar,

in truth the time is nigh,

for MAN to know of what he is,

and whither he came, and why.

One day the Stars he’ll travel,

and all will be his ground,

but he must walk in Wisdom,

and Love, thus so profound.


*      *      *



The secret of life, dear Omar,

is thus not learned on Earth,

but in the Womb of Eternity,

where we first had our birth.

Not the birth of the body

or the temporal mind we know,

but the birth of our minds that existed

before the temporal show.


‘Tis not of metaphysics,

or things that go from here,

but that of PROTOPHYSICS,

from whence we came to here.

And likewise is it also so,

that when things go from here

they fall back to from whence they came,

the Divine Eternal Sphere.


For things are like a vortex

which blossom up through time,

and when the time cannot be held

they fall back to their prime.

But all the things that manifest

have purpose of their own,

while fitting in the scheme of things,

many orbits from their home.


And each and every vortex

will find itself among

the food it needs for further growth

for the next time it will come.

So practice all the things you love,

and feel for what is best,

for the next time that you come back here,

you’ll wear them like a vest.


part two


But strange it is we have to go

back from whence we came,

while living in the temporal life,

to learn the Cosmic game.

Thus, Paradise is for the living,

and not the dead you see!

for knowing it only when you’re gone,

is no good to you, or me.


Thus, why do some that journey make

while others have to wait

until their time on Earth is up

before passing through that gate?

Thus there’s more to learn yet,

and far beyond my ken,

but time was made for mind you see,

and we will know it..... when.


‘Tis also a part of the secret,

for those who come to see

just what it’s like within that realm

that brought forth you and me.

Although that realm does not give birth,

for there’s something deeper yet,

and that’s the thing that makes us sing,

and the source of the Cosmic duet.


That thing, of course, it cannot live

among the forms it brings;

but you and I can let it live,

by the song our spirit sings.

That is the ultimate secret,

and the power that we hold,

and that is why we are on Earth,

so the Reciprocal Convergence unfolds.


part three


Thus it is a miracle,

that the absolute made me;

and that, in time, it’s you and I,

that here, can set it free;

to dwell among its forms divine;

to feel the wind, to taste the wine;

for when we feel the passion strong,

we’re giving back the Cosmic song.


The Mutual Convergence (two in the field)

takes us home to rest;

but the Reciprocal Convergence (here on Earth)

in truth I say is best;

For in death we have the prize so grand

and nought there is to do;

but here on Earth it is MY WILL,

that says.... “My love, this is for you”!


And thus it is that giving

all the joy within,

will not only fill you to the depths

but make all others sing.

And likewise when you’re drained of joy

and used up all within,

then more, and more, will come your way;

just like it is.... therein.

We cannot stay in Paradise;

we cannot stay on Earth;

and nowhere is there else to go;

and so we thus.... rebirth.


*      *      *



Good and Evil are one road—

experience of the mind.

Good is that which lies ahead

and evil that behind.

The road is relative to each one

at any point in time,

as so too are the passing points

which consciousness must climb.


Such road is thus a one way street

along which souls must tread

to modulate its spirits glow,

and learn the way ahead.

The lessons learned are Essences

which dwell beyond the forms;

and Virtue is a recognition

of when an essence dawns.


Evil cannot rise in mind

until a lesson’s learned

by each soul having trod that path,

and its knowledge thus has earned.

Hence good can look both forward

and also where it’s been;

but evil knows no journey

or what there is to glean.


Good alone knows evil,

for it’s passed along those ways,

and learned the lesson that it brings

and the dividend it pays.

Thus good is where you’re going,

and evil’s where you’ve been,

and nought there is experienced

which by the inner eye goes unseen.


part two


The principle of good and bad

is that of AFFECTATION,

and exists for things we have to learn;

its effect is MODULATION.

There is no choice in learning,

it simply IS THE WAY;

and the greatest evil that there is,

is REMORSE for yesterday.


Thus good is but ATTRACTION

while REPULSION is evil’s mode;

but the journey is a one way street

with no turning on that road.

Evil pushes where good pulls

like gravity of the mind;

but they are the self-same movement;

(though pulling’s much more kind).


‘Tis like a row of Taverns

through which we all must go

to sup the goods that in them lie,

so we can say “I KNOW”!

For that which tasted vile

we will not drink again;

and not a thing created

cares to drink of pain.


But do not judge another

by actions that you see,

for he may be supping at a house

a few doors off from thee.

But it’s safe to judge the actions,

for you know of where you’ve been;

but do not judge the doer,

for their soul you’ve never seen.


part three


A soul is measured by its GLOW,

(and not by you and me);

‘tis assessment of how much it’s grown

and where it’s come to be.

‘Tis measured in the DOME OF WHITE,

which lies before the gate,

where ANNIHILATION takes you home,

to rest in your orbit of state.

And when the two become as one

in the field of white that day;

then all the pains of learning

will thus THEN pass away.


Beyond the gate of Paradise

there is nothing you will know

of attraction and repulsion

which took place in the temporal show.

And neither is there knowledge

of things judged good or bad;

for you could not sup in Paradise

if memory you had.


The one which lies beyond all things,

needs not of good or bad,

nor ugliness or beauty,

for all knowledge it’s long since had.

But minds that come like you and I,

such lessons for to see;

must learn of all the principles

that exist in creations sea.


part four


Some learning is a joy to know,

and some is pain untold;

and there is no exit from the flow

where lessons of mind unfold.

For all the principles, at their best,

just as they are below,

cannot rest until they come

to FORM, in the temporal show.


The greatest gift there is, by far,

is that we come to know,

that you and I do play our part

in creations mighty flow.

We have not come here just to taste,

or watch in passive awe,

for delegated unto us

is part of creations chore.

And hence we must learn what is right,

and what is best to do;

a task among the living forms

where so much depends on YOU.


If they ask you for a sign

within you.... to expose,

then tell them that the sign they seek



which in PARADISE doth dwell,

and knows the song the singer sings,

and reflects it oh so well.

So talk not then of Evil

or pain you have to bear;

but only that of LEARNING,

and the Love we all must SHARE.


*      *      *


(Epiphytal Fruition.)


How lonely must a lover be

who clings to forms in time

and ponders not upon the depths

which make them yours and mine.


The realm of Wisdom’s passion feeds

the host that lives in awe

and wines and dines upon its love,

requiring nothing more.


There is no greater venture;

there is no greater wealth;

there is no greater mystery,

than the journey into self.


The truth of love is thus made clear,

to those who come to see,

that I must live in you my love,

then you can live in me.


An instrument of music cannot play itself,

and in the act of trying one never knows real wealth.

The melody of creation which spans so many years,

plays the tune exquisite; the harmony of the spheres.


And Humankind, as yet to come,

mid love and pain and tears,

will be the pipes on which is played

the music of the spheres.


*      *      *



Dwell awhile upon this thought,

of something you should know

of relevance and meaning

about the place you go.

And about the Earth we’re living on

with so many things to see;

so many Essences to adore,

from the Universe to a Tree.


So many people we can know;

so many things to do;

so many loves, so many likes;

all given thus.... to you.


Whilst in the realm of time and form

little remains thus hidden;

but while in the realm of Paradise,

no knowledge of Earth is given!


On Earth you can know Paradise,

and a multitude in form

which emanate the principles

of love before the dawn.

In Paradise it is not so;

and just that love is known.

So make the Earth a shrine to love;

for it is our second home.


*      *      *



Some say we are God’s creatures,

like puppets on a string;

some say we are from Monkeys;

but neither know a thing

about the nature of the truth

of what evolves in time;

but if such thoughts console them;

then rather theirs, than mine.


Evolution is dualistic,

for we live in what we need;

through dialectic of all knowledge;

environment for the seed.

No seeds are cast on barren ground

by the nature of the way;

we are not cast from Paradise

to be thus lead astray.


We are not here to suffer,

and there is no such thing as sin;

cast off such thoughts and place them

in the Cosmic rubbish bin.

In Paradise we can’t evolve,

for events can’t pass that day;

but here on Earth, in time, and form,

we come to learn the Cosmic way.


part two


All learning thus digested

will pass to instinct when

Homo Ensophicus walks the Earth;

a race of Divine Men.

But never will there come a time

when there’s nothing left to learn;

nothing left to stir the heart,

or a new page thus to turn.


But without such Divine ignorance

placed upon you and I

in the form of Cosmic amnesia

then imagine how you’d try

to walk a few short paces,

while thinking how to move;

but the mind is cleared for better things

beyond its previous groove.


If you had to be thus conscious

of how to think, or sit, or stand,

where then the time for love, and art,

or observing quality of the land?

Such things are placed in memory

beyond the senses realm,

into the realm of instinct,

the driver of that helm.


part three


For that is what the brain is for,

among so many things;

it soaks up all we need to know;

but it’s not the brain that sings.

The thing which sings, or writes a verse,

and talks of what it loves,

is the spirit level of the soul,

which shines... like stars above.


Look not amid the Human brain

for the place where spirit curls;

it dwells only in Eternity,

and guarded like rare pearls.

It is the lover of the loved,

the seer of the seen,

the child of creation;

the answer to a dream.


Created minds are here to stay,

though personalities pass away;

but when you talk thus of your ‘self’

then KNOW of what you say;

lest you deride the greatest thing

that ever passed this way.

For you are mind, so rare and true;

Paradise ‘is’ because of you;

and so too are all things in time;

so with it now... what will you do?


*      *      *



Let not words confuse you

for they are only tools;

some arise from wise folk,

and some arise from fools.

Some point to things which thus exist

and hence a useful word,

but some point thus to nothing,

which makes them quite absurd


A word is but a sign post,

and made by me and you

to point to something that is real,

to something that is true.

‘Tis also wise to keep in mind

that Man creates such scrawl,

but mind is from, and then returns,

to where no words exist at all.


Where mind at deepest root is formed,

and in that essence laid,

it knows not things which POINT to truth,

for IN IT, it is made.

SYNETIC dialogue is the form

of communication there;

the thing of truth, within itself,

and pointing thus... nowhere.


We are living in a time right now

where nought there is that’s true,

for all is seen as relative,

and sign-posts are so few.

Or so many which confuse you:

for what is really seen

when you observe the colour red

and others see it green?

The truth is that one sees it

as a colour glowing red

and yet another... sees it green!

but have a thought instead,

to a third truth, now objective,

which is neither Green nor Red.


part two


But how would you distinguish

vibrations which thus fall

on created minds observing

the flow of what can be

if nought there was to isolate

the observer from the tree?


‘Tis thus of no importance

the colour of the glow

that some see green and some see blue,

the truth is that you KNOW,

that this or that vibration,

though close in proximity,

will separate creation

and allow you thus to see.


If creation were one colour,

and the same for all to see,

one simple cosmic vibe throughout;

then how boring it would be!

Where some see red

and some see green

perhaps it is a test,

and life is trying different modes,

to see which one is best!


Reality has many layers

and dimensions of the Mind;

and each with truth abounding

within that field confined.

But in a different layer

there are other truths to tell,

and the principles are different

from the one’s you know so well.


Be confused not likewise,

that often where two words ring

a different sound within your mind,

they mean the self-same thing.


*      *      *



(For Cassie from Dad.)


Though times often come

when the heart does not glow;

so laden with worry

that no song will flow.

But just as the seasons

must pass in their turn

there comes a great mystery

which makes the heart burn

with a freshness of vigour

in passion so rare

in a pounding of love and beauty so fair.


What reason, they ask,

is such thing as it is?

For no reason, I say,

for that’s how it is!


And when all your burdens

and chores, like a chain,

shackle the spirit

in gloom’s dark domain

there comes, like a whisper,

a fragrance so fair

which lifts all such anchors

which shackled you there—


part two


—and raises the spirit

on wings like a Dove,

to once again dwell

in its domain of love.


What reason, they ask,

is such things as it is?

But no reason, I say,

is the best reason there is.


Search not for reasons

why things should be good,

but accept what they are,

for they are as they should.


Search why they are not so

in times that are less;

and strive that they must be,

with love and with zest.


*      *      *



(For Old Acquaintances.)


Once in a while it’s nice to say,

of that which motivates one’s day,

and adds a spice so rare and true;

my love, that thing you know, is you.


No riches can buy one ounce of love,

and no toil or sweat can stir that Dove;

nor all the power in the Sea

contains a cup of what’s in thee.


The gift of friends is rare indeed;

and steadfast in our times of need.

So once in a while then let it be said,

for you cannot tell them when their dead.


The moment having been, moves on,

and never again to be seen;

and we cannot expunge what has been done;

nor return to alter the screen.

So give it thought, while there is time,

of all the acts you do,

for once they’re done, they’re done—they’re done,

and they were done by YOU.


So how does one talk of such a gift

that gives one’s heart that special lift?

I cannot think of what to say,

but I thank what IS for your birth day.


*      *      *



It is easy to point out the faults

that exist in creations sea,

such things which don’t sit well in minds

of beings such as we.


Such things as pain and hardship,

and diseases that still come;

and hills that roll and flatten

such works as we have done.


But incarnate evolution,

in which a day is but a page,

is a process of creation

amid aeons of an age.


Homo Sapiens are a mode

of consciousness in form,

not near the end of such a road,

but nearer to the dawn.


Nought can come from ‘nothing’,

as some would make believe;

creation’s not a conjuring trick

or a trump up someones sleeve.


It is a work of toil and pain

with tears shed on the way,

to liberate all conscious minds

in the multitudes array.


It is not a case, as some have thought,

that the multitude must come

to merge and reunite in form

with the consciousness of ‘ONE’;

but it IS the case that all that be

in incarnate form shall come

to live in unique freedom,

but with knowledge of the ‘ONE’.


part two


It is not a resolution

of the ‘multitude in one’;

but when the ‘ONE’, is in the all,

creation will be DONE.


We are near to the beginning;

nowhere near the very end;

but the knowledge of from whence we come;

our vision will thus mend.


How many Stars gave forth their form

that worlds like this may come;

from works done in an Atom

in the furnace of a Sun;

while created minds in Paradise

rested in repose

while such forms were thus created

and in temporal fields arose.


The first in the chain of being,

will be the very last

to emanate in temporal forms

its own loves then to cast.


Creation is a gift to mind;

to do with what we will;

but welded to great wisdom;

and the love it does instil.


Think not, that all the minds on Earth

are on the self-same rung

in the evolution of their Soul,

as in temporal forms is done.


For in such mode of thinking

n’er will you understand,

and paradox will haunt you,

wherever you walk the land.


For enlightenment is as relative

as the dark night of the Soul

amid each step of learning

and attaining your next goal.


part three


Judge not the acts of wise folk

by the contents of a child;

judge not the young in ignorance

where passion is so wild—


—for each and every mind on Earth

can still both learn and teach

from each and every Soul there is

within life’s temporalities reach.


Reflect a little also,

that where fools walk today,

that you, and all the wise folk,

did walk along that way.


Our judgements are not final

until everything you’ve seen;

and that’s a day so far away,

beyond all childhood dream.


And when a child asks you

as to how it can be done

that two pints fit into a cup

that once held just the one,

then tell them that the task is done

by melting down the cup

and moulding it again in time

with twice as much to sup.


Events can never come to pass

beyond the realms of time;

for there is no evolution

in the virgin womb sublime.


*      *      *



Of all the things created,

midst Time and Eternity,

of all the things created,

the closest that there be,

to the centre of your being,

is the Womb of Eternity.


Where Stars lie at a distance

in the depths of time and space,

and untold light years come between

your self and such a place,

the Sun lies just eight minutes

and the Moon is closer still;

so how long ago the tip of your nose?

and how closer yet until

there is no space or time between

“Now” and conscious will?


For “Now” exists in Paradise,

and nowhere else is found

the Point of no Duration;

for the Centre... is the Ground.


And the Centre of creation

is the centre of all things

that emanate in time and space,

and where your mind begins.


part two


Tis hard to take in at a glance,

and harder yet to see

just why such things exist at all,

or even come to be.


Yet paradox is answered

when Paradise comes to Earth;

for then you’ll KNOW, beyond all things,

of Wisdom’s greatest worth.


The Mutual Convergence,

will you, that time endow,

with no yesterday, or tomorrow;

for in Paradise.... it’s “NOW”.


No greater miracle there could be

amidst all things...  old and new,

for while ‘out of time’... you are IN IT,

and ‘in time’...  IT IS IN YOU.


How Incredible—and Awesome!!!


*      *      *



Never will there come a time

when you will say to me—

“Now I see that you were right

when you told the mystery”.


For when you come to learn the truth,

beyond all memory then you’ll be;

and so very few amid one term

ever come to see.


But you will still remember

while passing through the dark

transition of the journey home

whereon you will embark

the retrospection of your life,

and what was of great worth;

and I trust you’ll not be loaded down

with remorse on which to work.


But come a time... another time,

when you will read a book,

amid a life in which you were

‘reeled in’... upon that hook

which binds us to the very core

of creations first deed done;

and then you’ll say, “Oh yes, it’s true,

I am not the only one!”

But those who hear the message now,

and even though they do not KNOW,

they do have knowledge OF the truth,

of whence they come and go.


*      *      *



“So many gods, so many creeds

so many paths that wind their way;

while just the art of being kind,

is all the sad world needs today”.


No need there is to seek such truth

for mile after mile;

for the message of the Divine Realm

is writ on every smile.


Yet in no books will truth be found

despite the fevered search;

nor in the halls of reason,

nor Synagogue or Church.


For that which gives event to all,

and where we all are born,

is no further than the depths of self,

beyond the Gates of Dawn.


What opens up the porthole

to let the light shine through?

just ask yourself the question...

Are your actions to your feelings true?


When harmony abounds within,

and all striving put aside;

then for a while, among those depths,

we take that Cosmic ride.


And so I say, dear Omar,

when all is said and done,

no greater joy there is in life,

than Knowing whence we come.


*      *      *



The things of which I’ve mentioned

are not theory, but are ‘thus’.

I have stated them quite briefly

without circumbendibus.


But most will still yet argue

for duration’s yet to come;

of what they are

and why they’re here,

and from whence their being come.


But before you make a judgement,

first come to know your self:

and know of that which is not you;

the deepest Cosmic wealth.


The words I have thus written

are nought in any measure

to try and pay a debt I owe

for the deepest Cosmic pleasure.


My hope is that you come to see,

while you are still on Earth,

the things of which I’ve mentioned;

of such Wisdom and such worth.


And when the time shall come to be,

when all Men on Earth do know

the nature of their inner depths;

how then ... the World will Glow.


And then... for a duration,

the essence of the ONE,

will be the same amid the Earth,

as in Paradise:  It Will be Done.


*      *      *



Like those who went before me,

and those still yet to come,

I too walked on the water

when temporal life was done.


In time and form we have a choice

for you, just as for me,

to let the water flow right through,

or confine it like a sea.


So wiser now, by far I see,

to let out all within,

to let it flow its natural path

and shape us from within.


For that which does not move inside,

like trapped air in a room,

cannot function as it must

and stagnates all too soon.


In temporal life we are the banks

of the mighty rivers tread;

but to dam the torrent in its path

is to damn yourself instead.


The banks are the observer,

and the river is that seen;

in death the banks subside once more;

and nought can come between.


part two


It is often said a Prophet

will tell of times to come;

but I tell you that a Prophet

will tell of when time’s done—


—and of the love that’s evergreen

and cannot pass away

from the fountain of such wisdom

in the place we go that day.


Thus, you and I, at deepest root,

where time has no duration,

are the FIRST created thing;

the CHILD of creation.


Before the mountains high and wide,

before the seas did flow,

before the Stars gave forth their light,

even then....

.... I said,  “I KNOW”!


*      *      *



(For Kathy.)


A life with just the senses five

slumbers; for it’s half alive.

Like periscopes above the waves,

by themselves are living graves.

But deeper than the eye can go,

where nought but insight there can flow,

beyond the form the Essence hides;

unspoken words, like Virgin Brides.


Such pearls that do not rust in time;

like virtues that evoke a rhyme;

the melting pot of all that moves,

beyond the browns, the greys, the blues.

The linear line of visual sight

knows well the day; and of the night.

But inner flight can only know

how to make the daylight glow.


The terminus where centres meet;

where one must fly on winged feet,

where the deeper eye is born

which turns a morning into dawn.

Each child invents the world anew,

and thinks himself among the few;

and wax like youthful Cocks-a-crow;

I know! Oh yes, I know, I know.


Oh my love, do not you see?

‘tis there for all; to use for free.

And what is yours is none the less;

‘tis equal... to the very best!

‘Tis irrespective of our thought,

for beyond time the mould was wrought.

We did not choose to walk this road;

the labour....  is a Cosmic load!


*      *      *



(Dedication to Professor Abdus Salam,

Director of the

International Centre for

Theoretical Physics; Trieste.)


My soul is of a birth so rare,

beyond the multitudes rude glare.

The womb of silence is all mine,

its knowledge vast as the Divine.

Where time can neither rust or move,

and none there are to disapprove

the chorus of the lights aglow

which only lovers come to know.

The sparkling womb of eternity

fit for only that part of me

which lasts the final judgement day

when part must go, and part must stay.

And when annihilation’s job is done,

that part of me which is the son

of creations love Divine,

and knowing that which is of mine.


And thus we know the deeper wealth;

the knowledge of the truth of self;

and all that is not me you see,

the absolute of objectivity.


part two


“I envy you this knowledge;

especially while so young”!


Oh no my friend,

don’t do so,

for you know not what it’s done!


The consequence of knowing,

whilst on this world one dwells,

is synonymous with drowning

in a stream of living hells:

in a world where love is tethered

to a lie (about to die)

by the will of men incarnate

who’s spirits have run dry

of all that is of value—


—and thus what is the worth,

the exodus from paradise

to find oneself on earth!?


But in due course they all will know,

and only then can this world glow.

In the meantime, let them feel,

and life, to them, will then reveal.


*      *      *



If you would tread the mystic path

amid this temporal life;

then know it’s not your act of will;

but a pulse from the deepest depths of life.

You cannot force it for yourself,

so simply sit and wait,

and longing for a deeper truth

to reach out from its hidden gate.


But we, are not the judge of when,

such things should come to pass,

for the reasons are much deeper

than temporal thoughts that pass

through our minds at random,

or forced by our own will,

for it is the pulse of deeper life

and comes, when all is still.


It comes when it is ready

to modulate the form,

by principles of driving force

beyond the gates of dawn.

And if you would tread the mystic path

amid this temporal life,

then make the time to free your mind

from daily things, and inner strife.


part two


Dwell only on the perfect,

insofar as you can feel,

of music, love, and beauty,

and your self which is so real.

Thus find a place of beauty

and dwell there... all alone,

and open up your mind and heart

and sing of what is known.


Rewarded are the solitary,

for they make time their own

while living in the multitude;

and they will know their home.

But if these things come not to pass

amid this temporal spell,

then never lose the truth I say,

for you will know it well.


There is a day, a time, a place,

for things to make their show,

but you and I, about these things,

cannot really know

of when that day is ripe at hand,

for they happen as they must,

but when it is—you’ll know it then;

and that, you can well trust.

Another time, another day,

another form will come,

for that is how the spirit grows

in concordance, with the One.


part three


But if such things are ready

their time at hand to come,

and yet you do not make the space

for effects which must be done;

for then the soul knows turmoil,

and little of which to laugh;

and that is but a sign for you

to tread another path.


Rewarded are the solitary,

for they make time you see,

and eager to grow in Wisdom,

and for whatever must then be.


I have torn up the knowledge

a thousand times, or more,

whilst even knowing of its truth;

for it was such a chore.

I have torn up the knowledge

a thousand times and more,

and each time had to once again

go through that self same door.


But not the doors, dear Omar,

of which you trod again,

for you will not learn the facts of life

by listening to Men.

For life is all about you,

both outside, and within;

and Theories are ten a penny;

and will never make you sing.


*      *      *



You cannot dam the Cosmic pulse

without some form of stress

when you are thus ready

for new ways to now address.


Our growth, at times, is hard to take,

because of change brought in its wake,

but the loss of yesterday’s sweet song

in Cosmic growth is nothing wrong.

So do not mourn for yesterday,

and all the things now passed away,

for they have done their job in time

to make the lesser, more Divine.


Creation’s not yet done you see,

for some depends on you and me;

the product of our lives on Earth

will come from acts to which we give birth.

So ponder well upon what’s best,

for in time effects will manifest

and bring a world which we will grow;

for what you reap—is what you sow.


Do not fight the days of stress,

but go the way that brings redress

where change has thus to come your way

for another dawn, another day.

And each profound experience

will teach you something new;

and if it comes not all at once...

so much, the best, for you!

Such learning comes in two forms,

one amid the day,

amid the temporal things in life;

thus, local, in its way.

The other is transcendent,

when you, must go, to IT;

but all we learn, whichever way,

will make the puzzle fit.


*      *      *



A Song of Remembrance.



to Franz Gruber and Joseph Mohr.)



Silent night, Holy night,

all is calm, all is right;

rests the child of love’s virgin light

in that heavenly womb so bright.

Rest there in heavenly peace,

Rest there in heavenly peace.


Silent night, Holy night,

gone the World, hid from sight

while the glory of loves sweet child

bathed in wisdom so tender, so mild,

reaping thy heavenly peace,

reaping thy heavenly peace.


Silent night, Holy night,

realm of love, Oh so right,

guide their spirit to thy side

so in truth we all may abide

singing of heavenly love,

singing of heavenly love.


part two


Still the night; Calm the night;

for the child of heavenly light

from that womb of eternal abound:

in remembrance of loves silent ground,

where thy true love is born,

where thy true love is born.


Silent night, Holy night,

all is calm, all is right,

where thy truth redeems our glow

and spirit falls like snow upon snow

then rests there in heavenly peace;

rest there in heavenly peace.


Silent night, Holy night,

gone the world, hid from sight,

while the glory of loves sweet child

bathed in wisdom so tender and mild,

rests there...  in heavenly peace.


Rest there...  in heavenly peace !


*      *      *


(From Eternity for this Purpose.)


The beauty then, of Gnosis,

and the nature of the way,

is that if all the books on Earth

in time all passed away,

then the knowledge of the truth of things

Man would still come to learn,

for it follows Mind wherever it goes,

and whichever way it turns.


Likewise on any Planet

on which life may take part,

from the beginning, unto the end,

where Universes start.


When I was young, before I knew,

I thought that life was strange,

a joy, the deepest mystery,

that ever was arranged.

But now a little older,

and with little time to go;

how much I underestimated

the nature of the flow.


To say that life’s a mystery

is like saying that Paradise is good,

and to say “I KNOW”, is not the same

as saying it’s understood.


I wish no more to understand,

for I understand enough;

and what I’ve learned in such short time;

for one lifetime.... is enough.


*      *      *



Never was a thing on Earth

created so divine,

so virtuous in ignorance,

so powerful, yet sublime.

So wise and yet so childlike,

amid the Cosmic plan,

who knows both love and hardship;

as the phenomenon of Man.


I tell you this, in greatest truth,

that the last thing you will see

is a tear, of which, I knew not why;

in the mystic trinity.

But many years did then pass by

before I came to know,

not from where, but only WHY,

that tear thus came to flow.


Man knows ignorance, toil and pain,

and yet he knows no prize;

for all he knows there’s nothing,

when last he shuts his weary eyes.

Creation is a painful task,

and little peace is brought,

but ever yet, in Man alone,

‘ought’ is sought, by thought!


I tell you this my greatest love,

in ignorance Man still laughs;

yet the mover of creation

never had to walk such paths.

To know all things implicit

is quite a feat.... well done!

But I strike a medal thus for Man,

for his virtue he has bravely won.

My love I bow my head to thee,

for all the things that come to be,

but of all the things made in the plan;

no greater miracle there is... than Man.


*      *      *




If you would ask the question,

as I did once before,

as to why you should do this or that

although it be a chore;

then the answer is not easy

but I’ll try to do my best,

to the explanation, as I see it,

and from hindsight of the rest.


There is no extra profit

from any good deed done

by you and me amid this life;

and if there were but one

then that would be a blackmail

of the deep and darkest kind,

and never would such system

sit well upon the mind.


But nonetheless we do our best

to make this world a cheer

for a reason which is hard to say,

but I think we’re somewhere near

to say that such an act brought forth,

and by our intention done,

is an act of love—for nothing,

for no reason it is done;

other than—”I love you”!

and for what that may be worth;

for creation can’t be wasted

upon this little Earth.


And when this world’s a cinder

or a ball of frozen ice,

I think it would be fitting,

or at least it would be nice,

to say, or let it be said,

that once upon a time

upon this little fragment—

Man became...  Divine.


*      *      *



Let it be... as so it is!

or ‘amen’ as some would say;

for now I see, dear Omar,

that in the Cosmic way

I would not change one Atom,

one smile... or one tear;

for each effect will modulate

our understanding so,

that in due course all minds will see,

and come to say... “I KNOW”!


And when the final chord is struck;

then you will really ken,

the Essence of the hearts of all,

Children, Women, and Men,

in the ground of the last supper;

in the ground of the last Amen.


My God!.. If I could write one poem!

or write one melody;

or paint the ultimate picture,

that men might come to see

the likeness of perfection

at the heart of all that be,

in the paradise of the virgin womb

in the ground of eternity.


But alas, there is no thing that’s made

by any Art of men

to emulate incarnate

the ground of the last Amen;

as it is...  in the last Amen.


*      *      *



One day I hope to find a Man,

a Woman, or a Child,

who walks this Earth in knowledge

of that Wisdom, oh so mild.

Or even one so virgin

who does not look away

when told of the Eternal Realm

from whence they came that day.


Then they and I will talk of things

for a pleasant hour or more

of the mystic cave which lies beyond

that secret Cosmic door

hard by the gate of melting light

wherein a truth is known,

and when it is digested

they then, will know their home.


We’ll sing a song in silence:

and share stories we have known

of events which we have come to see

since last we left our home.

But they and I will have no place

in the present world uncouth,

where men yet walk in Somnus

and turn their backs on truth.


part two


Near dawns the twenty-first century;

let’s hope it’s in the plan

that when they are thus twenty-one,

mere boys become a Man.


And now I am retiring,

for my time is nearly done;

I have but given food for thought

but another will yet come—

One, which when it comes your way,

then you will know the rest,

for you’ll have knowledge, of the all:

Consummatum... Est.


Remember then, the day you go,

the words which you have read,

of the place some say you’re living

and some say you are dead.

For remembrance will save you

from the nausea of fear

while passing through that Limbo,

where Paradise is near.


*      *      *


(Male and Female.)


I’ll just say this before I go—

No matter my love, what you think you know;

the time is now for me to leave,

so do not weep, and do not grieve.


In yet another time, and place,

a Girl of beauty, charm and grace,

will spy across a crowded floor

a youth she knows she will adore.


They’ll know not of I and you,

for they’ll be born again—as new.

But deep within they’ll feel a beat;

in recognition they will greet—


—and you and I will once again

frolic in the Sun and Rain;

with passions high and feelings deep

that harvest once again we’ll reap.


Paradise can have its day,

and all such days can go their way;

but BEING is for you and me...

time and again—eternally.


Time and beyond will let you see

that you and I will ever be

the pounding of the cosmic heart,

and never will we be apart.


When next we meet in fields Divine;

then I’ll be yours, and you’ll be mine:

again we’ll show them at a glance

just how the passion needs to dance.


*      *      *



(Dedication to Thelema Grisham-White—

The Lady Hawk of the Lakes.)


This world is full of beauty,

and such a pleasant place would be,

if we did but love it,

and its wonders they could see.


This world is full of wonder

like the twinkling stars above;

and if we did our duty

it would be full of love.


This world is full of mystery

like the deepest depths of mind;

yet the dignity of spirit

hereon is left behind.


This world is full of records,

of data writ on time;

as is the soul of being,

and its essence, so sublime.


This world is full of spirit

which knows not where to go;

while fear shackle them in darkness,

and thus they cannot know.


This world is full of music,

yet they seek the object of their love;

but the love which is within them,

they think comes from above.


part two


But that which is the wonder

and the absolute bar none,

already did its work of art;

in the beginning it was done;

before time tore asunder

and symmetry came to be,

in the mono-pole of oneness;

and resides there still to see.


Thus, all there is to ever know

and all there is to be,

is waiting till we’re ready

to see it thus, you see.


Each voice which sings the song of songs,

each mind that comes to know

the nature of their deepest self,

whilst on earth will come to glow.


If truth were but their only love

how wondrous it would be,

for only love reveals the truth:

of The one, the two, then three.


Ah love, could we conspire,

to amplify the song,

from the two in isolation

to the multitude and throng?


So, in the depths of winter

where darkness is thus rife;

gather the babes around the hearth

and speak to them; of Life.


part three


Fire the flame within them

As the coals do warm the hand:

and tell them of from whence they came,

The Divine Eternal Land.


Life is not thus made on earth,

nor in space, nor form, nor time;

but deep, beyond polarities

in a ground which is sublime.


All things brought forth in time must go,

back to from whence they come;

and the end is the beginning

when the temporal work is done.


And the work which you and I must do

whilst on this earth we run,

is to make it a reflection

of the realm from whence we come.


The world will not come right by chance,

nor hopes, nor faiths, nor pleas;

but only by our actions,

our aspirations, then our deeds.


*      *      *