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The Impossible Game of Love

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The Impossible Game of Love

We are sentient and aware, self-conscious
Uniquely designed individual entities
Currently alone within a frighteningly vast universe,
Burdened by an uncanny proclivity for devolution;
As in becoming the most dangerous and destructive
Of all known animated species in nature;
A nature well famous for its breathtaking elegance and splendor
As well as a penchant for icy ruthlessness,

We are a human species that honors
Wealth, power, fame, adulation, beauty,
Glamour, in all its peaches and regalia,
But everything gradually fades away,
And what was once so beautiful
Is carved with life’s tributaries of sorrow,
In lines of unmerciful decay,
And our bodies, once so filled with living
Return unceremoniously humble
To the silence of the dust
From which they came,

As humans,
(“Hu” meaning light, and “man” meaning mind)
We are uniquely individual, but the same –
In that we are all a-likened to GOD,
Yet in our current cultural milieu
That denies a soul even exists;
Doubt often eclipses any insight possible
Through authentic forms of love
Understood through GOD’s mercy alone;

Lost in varying degrees of temporary blindness,
Our contemporary culture has been infected by a plague of modernism;
With a contagion that stifles the capacity for love’s truth,
Asphyxiated by an ironic religious obsession
With what is stringently material
Resulting in an individualistic
Demand to hold the illusion of death high
In an ultimately fear ridden almost deified esteem,
Honoring individual self centeredness as a virtue
Licentiousness, a virtue
Greed, a virtue
Slander, a virtue,
Sin, a virtue,
And the unmitigated love of GOD, mere foolishness,

Spawned by intellectual belligerence, misguided compassion,
And indignant cruelty,
Rampant with the many shades and forms of darkness
That veil
The truth innate in selfless, unconditional love,
Stymied by the poison that’s source is it’s own fruit –
A poison that’s symptoms are lust, anger, greed, pride
And attachment,
Crumbling under the divine weight of love
Attempting to eclipse the radiance
That emanates through GOD alone;
We question why we’re slowly merging into chaos
In defiant replacement of any faith in GOD
Who is ultimately, ironically and paradoxically
The only cure for a barren, lifeless, frozen incredulity
Of consciousness lodged like a barnacle
In the flesh of an unswerving materialism,

Everything humanity does has a hint
Of some faint, yet persistent redolence of death;
Even in the happiness born of great materialistic achievements,
But isn’t that what the agony
Of the Christ
Is all about? Isn’t that what we suffer for?
Surrendering our baser animal natures and desires,
By transmuting them into a higher awareness
By opening gateways to the further involution of consciousness?
To effectively actualize our ultimate and truest calling –
To serve each other and live eternally with GOD
in the kingdom of profound spiritual union,
And to help every brother and sister do the same
In this impossible game of love?

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Blood Moon

blood

Blood Moon

Her heart;
A hard one to get to,
Caked with transmigratory distillations,
Illumined by the intensity of dissident blood,
Blocked
With the sludge of unnatural sin, sanskaras,
Struck down in mid-career
In the midst of an otherwise sanctioned, archaic prowl –
Not to mention 8.4 million human incarnations everyone goes through
To decide
Before realizing oneness with this existence
And what’s behind each bourgeois door,

It was one of those electric nights,
We merged like a dare,
Exchanging boxes of transcendental rain
In sacred bonds of antediluvian scarlet,
Carbon’d, DNA’d;
The only apparent reality now –
Apparently,

By not speaking we let what is unspoken decide,
Relinquished in silence’s diamond eye shore,

The unimportant
The unadorned
The fear
The unforeseen,
The unknown –
For just a little while

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