Cyclical is our existence, a circular illusion
Coiled infinitely across an inexistent dimension which we cannot wrap our arms around, let alone our tiny minds

Its ever unfolding, like a snake giving birth to itself
Although it also seems to eat its own tail,
We’re like a train always ascending up it’s own spiral staircase

Bleak Sky, Black Bird

Grayness drifts
Eclipsing the world with a drear unclear
Bound down to the ground, from here I stare

Cool dry air, all condensed, floating there
Just what about its color makes us care?

Why rejoice to a blue sky, and beckon it in prayer
But repulse at a gray one, retreating into lair?

Is it right?
Is it just?
Is it remotely fair?

Snowflake, fingerprint, newborn, pocket lent.
All unique, empty, divine.

But with life in its flux
A near infinite crux
Would be had if one searched for that gold soul of mine

For you’d have to collect the entire green earth,
And each star that appears in the night.
Grab the love that I feel, which above all is real,
And shines in the darkness, providing me sight.

"The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

I just watched this very interesting clip of the mystic, Osho, delivering part of a lecture in which he purposed that "love is hocus-pocus"

he even goes so far as to say that those who promote love and compassion are actually at fault for the lack of authentic love in the world.
Instead he says, that we should only follow our awareness.

It has recently come to my attention that reality as we perceive it is a dream-like manifestation of a unified essence beyond any comprehension. We exist dualistically however, as main characters of the dream (as we perceive ourselves) and as elements of the all-encompassing singularity from which the dream is constantly generated. We are the dream and the dreamer.

Rock, Lizard, Cactus, Cloud, we are all different pieces in the Tupperware set of life. Is one piece better than the others? No. Each piece of each shape and each size has its own important function. Missing a single one, the set is incomplete.

[Just as disclaimer to all who read this, I wrote this piece in 2008 after an infuriating discussion with some "patriotic" classmates. I understand that anyone who is a part of this website is probably as aware, or even more aware of all this than I am, but I think the last paragraph is still important for all to read]