Day 181: True Vision

True Vision

Look into your eyes and count the specks. What sparkles in you, sparkles in all, endlessly.

How true this vision depends on the bandage.

How long you lay rest these eyes in darkness.

To let them see, what they do not see.

What sees is not these two balls made as one—some scope of evaluation and knowledge.

What sees in truth cannot have appendages, attachment, blood, fibrous tangles.

Instead, what truly sees is much beyond, as much as forward, in balance and in truth.

For once the bandages are removed from eyes, and eyes made restful, then all is made light.

All shines, not through eyes, yet through vision.

The truth in symbols, sound.

Embrace the gratitude of silence. The ears thus see—the heart, the mind.

This soul you lock away with bolt and key.

Lay rest the eyes, least the soul seeks to escape a prison self-created, intensely real and manufactured in painful callings of long forgotten desires.

Seek not this empty space buried deep beneath the earth any  longer.

Come out, come forward.

A true vision of living light.

A walking truth for all to breathe from.

To recognize, to reaffirm, and at last remember as you are, so are they.

At last, as always, true and effervescent beauty.

Photos taken by Sam Craft at Asilomar Conference Center in Pacific Grove, California. July 2012. Words by Sam Craft.

Day 180: The Green in Me


~~~~~~~~

The Green in Me

You are the green in me

The emerald forest of my heart

An energy perpetually emerging

That embraces and gives life air

You are the glorifying hush

The corner of my cherished secrets

A trove of shielded appetite

Which touches flesh in dreams

You are beyond the expansive darkness

Entered whole and complete

Gentle man’s crystalline eyes

Of familiar amber light

You are melting gaze

A night crawler, an evening star

The very view of needs increased

My every comfort in velvet care

*

You are the shade of fairy grove

Hunger drummed strong

Evergreen, ever moist, ever calling

The budding sunlight in me

You are the brilliant sea

Painted opulence

Pearly grace

Pastels and swirling hues

You are a blended master’s piece

A dance to be seen

To be swept and seized

Within the ebbing essence of my existence

Images by Sam Craft 2012: Washington State Park July 2012

Day 179: Paste Me to the Moon

Photographs of State Park in Washington (July 2012)

I am lost for words today. A woman in a forest of thoughts and mystery, both intrigued and frightened by her own mind.

I am between two rivers, two streams of thought, of how I am to be and what I want to be.

I question my every need, my every desire, my unyielding passion. And yet I know I am pure. I know I am enough. But I wonder where to turn in my mind. Where to stop. Where the boundaries are…when thoughts are exhausted and nothing else exists.

I only want to be loved. I only long to give love. But why do I long? Where does the longing rise from? Where is the switch? This knowing? This intensity? Where is this me that calls from beneath the shadows?

I measure everything. I place abstractness on scales. My actions are spared, as my thoughts have been filtered through and through, weighed out, analyzed, scrutinized…my actions don’t have a chance…they are absent…missing…vapors evaporating before they breathe.

Where do I travel? Where do I go? Why am I a lone wanderer on a planet that does not feel familiar and in a body and form I do not recognize? Why can I see others more clearly than my own self? And where do I stand? If I do not follow and do not lead, then where is my place in line?

Where is my reflection? Where do I find me. I cannot see me except through the eyes of another, and still this perception is so broken and shattered. And in my own mirror, I do not know this me. Everything in physical is not me. Every angle different and obscure. If I am not what I see and not what another sees, then what am I?

Am I my words? These symbols? These sounds? Am I energy? Am I flesh? Am I this still beating heart? Or am I more so this ache, this deep and unreachable ache. Yes, I am this ache. I am in totality this intense  ache.

So where to put me, this angst, this invisible pull that spins me into unwanted need and unneeded want. Where to put me?

Perhaps to the moon. Fly me to the moon, so I may be made whole. So that I may exist as an unmistakable mass dancing in empty space. My purpose only to move and stir. Paste me there. My image melted into one form. This searching ended. Paste me to the moon, so that I may watch from above and you may watch from below; and then we can both, from where we exist, imagine the world of the image before us.

Day 176: Speak Not of Angels

Washington July 2012

Speak Not of Angels

Speak not of angels
Or saints
Or masters or teachers
Speak not of mind
Or matter
Or virtue, or sin
Speak only of heart
And opening
Of divine power
Gracing your presence
From within
As the world is seeded
By thoughts and perception
Thusly are you rooted
To this world
Take caution in what is drawn up
Into you
From the soils made
Neither of whole, nor truth
Instead choose sky
In its emptiness
And vastness
As the embers of the all-embracing
Transform your vision
Be gone all doubt, destitute, and destruction
In place, welcome warmth
Healing rays of gratitude
Know what is
What was
And what will be are naught
For all is
And nothing more
To look beyond
Is to be the sailor searching
For willows and porcupines
Whilst at open sea
To be searching for no-otters
No creatures of sea
While immersed in water
This is how you seek
For the existence of not
When All is about you

~

by Samantha Craft

Washington July 2012

My brain is so quirky….This is the song I can’t get out of my head tonight. lol

Day 171: Release

Jealousy. Your voice loud and rhythmic, unceasing, like hornets droning piercing words into ear. You buzz, forging into the depth of my mind. Stinging eruption. To feed you, to return to hive, to calm your fury-dance, I submit to my weakness, my self-doubt, my agony. Submit and release, and whisper across your wings, I am beauty infinite.

Anger. Your drumming eternal. Imploding and exploding simultaneously. Releasing your nectar poison, red army ants feasting on organs. Nibble bite, nibble bite. Appetite continuous circle, no tail, no mouth, only motion. Captive screaming in pain; until released with open arms to the enveloping space. Accept all that enters, so same door may provide exit. To the torture, bid goodbye as lady kisses sailor to sea. To return with gifts and longing, when empty heart is stirred again.

Grief. Your fingers dip inside me, a thirsty stranger reaching in to drink. I am lessened, depleted, dried, and withered, and left again with twisted thoughts of what ifs, where, and when. Now, this moment, no longer exists, only dancing shadows that turn and move wildly in search of clothes they cannot wear and mouths that cannot move. Your voice is shallow. Your echo deep. Penetrating the very essence of my love-filled being. I remove you slowly, through tears, replenish body by giving freely the desired water to earthly dweller.

Remorse. Time is a player. He cascades across hallways of the past. Time playing in time. Not a man, nor woman, not beast, or plant. But an illusion. Some witness of a passing that does not exist. An invisible keeper of invisible existence. Back and back, revisiting the avenues of sadness. Turn back the clock to appease the dragon, only to be set afire. Singed and ash-covered by pretend foe. To return and breathe in emptiness, where cloaked imaginings cannot wander or exist. To arise unscorched like phoenix through forgiving sun. Bid mind’s searching goodbye. Leaning into the hope and promise of new day.

Lust. Awe, sweet angel dressed in black. You feed off of soul. Tempting the temptress, warming the warmer, cascading round pools of opportunity. I see you swerving, a lady of painted words. Come hither forward and fill me true with wishes of what will be, if given chance. Come hither forward, too, and show thy whole self, the aftermath and consequence. The red of what bleeds through when nothing covers soul but enchanting mystery. I give in and feel the eruption, caressing the dreams, only to rise half-full and more hungered. The more you entice, the more I search. Until at last I come home, with appetite for self, moving beyond the promises that hide behind unknown curtains.

Want. I breathe in the sunshine of your valleys, the moon of your sea, the gelatin of bone. I wear you. The finest cloth and richest jewels. I twirl and spin, a child in her dressing game. Giggles of delight. A borrower, a lender not. A giver tainted. A sunlit smile turned over for inspection. Take. Possess. Own. Obtain. Grab. Hoard. Stop. This need. Turn inward to the greatest castles of existence. The mountains filled with treasures buried within the endless soul. Searching not for what is lacking but what is already given. The limitless capacity for growth and transition. The all-encompassing ability to love immensely within an eternity of release.