Reflections

All is a reflection of myself, reflecting myself the reflection of the self I call MY self
I see my reflection in the eye and in the I of every thing around me and within every act of mine
The reflection is in my act and the very thought of myself about MY self and thus the other self in reference to myself

Not knowing this, I reflect the reflections within the reflections of my reflected self
And when I reflect the reflections of the reflections, I loose the essence of my self
And become a reflected self that is neither a reflection nor that which is reflecting

In this new reflection, I am neither MY self nor the reflected self but an idea of a self of reflection, a concept of reflection of the reflection
In reflecting the reflection, I become a hallucination and in this hallucination I become a delusion to myself, a deterioration of myself

In this deteriorated hallucigenic reflection of myself, I wander to render the wants, wants covered in needs and needs covered in wants, the wants of these reflections that I have become, that I am being
Always trying to satisfy my wants and manipulating the other to satisfy my wants
And I forget that I am also another want of the other who wants to satisfy their wants
For the other only comes to me for their own wants but never my wants

Every relationship as a want whether it takes the cover of fear/like or love. The words may change but the essence remains the same
Every “WANT” in every relationship is simply a want of the other to the other, even when it is the others want to satisfy my want, it is still their want and not my want
Knowing this what will I want from the other? and most importantly, what will I want with the want within my self?

All of my wants are reflections of my wants within my reflections to myself
All reflections are realities and all realities are reflections of myself
when I actually know this and be this, I may become and be a different kind of reflection
For there will still be the perception of reflection but only as an expression and not in essence nor in the very thought that is creating the reflection

And when the very essence of my thought has changed, what would such kind of reflection reflect?
what kind of reflective reality will I live in, for myself?

For, to reflect is not to reflect at all
In not reflecting, I reflect that which wants to reflect to itself but not to me
I no longer reflect the other or become the other or my very thought from the reflection of the reflection but I let see the reflection of the reflection to itself within me and without THE me

Maybe then, there is no longer me/my/I or a self that I call MY Self.

Reflecting

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Perception of Love

Many times I define love, many times I deny everything other than love
I speak of the love as the only one, for I have none to match the one I call, the one.

I say to my girlfriend/wife that I love you but then, I dint even know you existed few months ago, few years ago, few decades ago
I say I never know what love is until I met you
Do I say that because I have defined love as the absence of love and now I define love as the absence of that absence of that which I defined myself as love
I wonder if that is love

A mother says to her son, I love you, but the mother doesn’t even know the son until she conceived the son/daughter, who was this son/daughter before then, where was the love before?
So, Is love that develops with progression of time, experience and memory?
Is love that comes and goes as I will and wish?, Is that Love?
Rather than condemn this thought, I must consider it!

Is it possible that I define and speak of love as if it is the very life itself, a life that contains all of this illusion of perception of this and that
So as to make me feel secure and keep my illusion of security and comfort going,
So I am intoxicated in this illusion of mine and never to wake up to question my perception of love?

Do I speak of love so I can keep a lock on love
Lock on all that speak of love?
Maybe this is why I don’t want you to change, nor question myself, for then, I don’t have to change because the you don’t have to change.
Maybe, this is why I am so attached to my labels of my race, my country, my religion etc. in my every act and in my every thought I think
May be this why I encourage you to speak of them as well, divide yourself from me as well so we can divide ourselves and I don’t have to change or give up that which I hold on to, cling on to
is this love?
If this is love, then I wonder if this is actually the attachment to the experience of the mind and the memory developed from that experience

When all else fails to satisfy my clinging, my dinging of what I hold on to, I say, love cannot be defined, it must be felt
Forgetting that I am still defining love by un-defining love, in feeling love.

When I cut open my skull, I see no thoughts of hate or love. I cut open my heart, I see no sign of love, so where is this so called love?

Maybe, rather than asking what is love, for that only shows the quality of love
I ask myself “why” do I feel certain way when I “think” of hate or when I “think” that I am in love or I am loved?
Where is this perception of mine coming from?, Is it from this body?, Is it from the others body? And when the other ceases to exist first in my thought, what is happens to love?

Will I then be able to understand/feel for myself, the actuality of that which is happening within me, the awareness of me that I call me
Maybe then, I can no longer hide behind the words or the illusion of my own perceptions and its security/comfort both mentally and physically.

And maybe then I am naked, “COMPLETELY” naked inside out.

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Truth & Life

Maybe “Truth”, “The Truth” is like water, it has no shape nor form and yet takes on the shape and form of the perception of the perceiver
Maybe this is what it means when I hear – “Truth will set me Free”.

Maybe it is the actual understanding, actual self realization, of this statement that the truth I perceive is the truth I created/accepted unto myself to fit into my mold, to satisfy my wants and desires at that point of time.
And since time is limited in its very nature, in its very quality,
Thus, the truth I created/accepted is always limited to fit the confinements of myself, the self that I made as mine, claimed as mine

So, when I claim to have the truth, I have my truth and not “The Truth”, for the truth I have is my perception, my filter of deception to myself and not “The Truth”

For example – when I go to the beach and hold water from the ocean in the palm of my hand and claim I have the ocean in the palm of my hand, do I really have the Ocean in the palm of my hand?

Such is the nature of every Ideology, every Practice, every Religion, every race, every boundary, every Separation, every division and every form/formless that claims to have the truth,
the way, or one way, or one of the ways of truth.

Each way, each truth is another perception, is another perceptive deception, but is neither the right way nor the very way itself, Including hate and the comfort of Love
For neither hate nor love is “The Truth”

And when I claim hate/fear is an illusion, “Love is all there is” – It is like holding water in the palm of my hand and claiming I have the ocean.

The healers, the dealers, the feelers, the kneelers, the hallucinators and the story tellers,
NONE, NONE has “The Truth”

For to claim the truth in any way or form/formless, is to separate the truth from the Truth and enclose it in a booth
A smoky booth filled with soot

Claims are blames
blames that aim at the flame
flame that is fueling the shame
shame that is the taming of the same name, same game
Same game in the name to rename,
rename to a different trade name, at a different place to play the different, yet the same game of fame

So I keep away from the claims, from the blames and from the names of the frames and of the fame

For Life is not a game nor of fame and both the game & the fame, are only smoke filled frames

Maybe Life is the very nature of the nature that is here to nurture the nature of the nurture

So I let Life arrive, to this hive, to be alive, to revive, and to thrive
For Life and every life has the right to THRIVE

Realize

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All Selves as My Self

When a Business man becomes a Service man
When a Farmer becomes a Father
When a Artist becomes an Enlightener rather than a Entertainer

When Flags become Rags
when Racial Separation becomes a Radical Union within my self
when Color becomes Colorless and Clueless
When Religion becomes a Legion of Love within me

When Division is no longer a Diversion
When Labels becomes a Babble
When Corporations become units of Compassion
And when I no longer want the other, thither me

Then, maybe then, I will see myself with an eye that has no division of I
Then, maybe then, I will BE the society that I wanted to see, I will be the experience I wanted to be
Then, maybe then, I will actually, myself and through myself, will see all selves
ONE SELF, Myself as all selves

For, myself is the self that sees the other self, through myself and within myself

Passport

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Body as my Thought

In my world full of bodies
Bodies full of thoughts, my thoughts full of bodies
And thoughts full of thoughts about the thoughts of bodies
How am I to know my thought and my body

I spend time looking at the bodies, craving for the bodies, to satisfy the body
Grooming my body to be of the perception of the thoughts of the bodies.

Bodies as memories, memories as thoughts creating my body, my thought and the resulting experience
Only to realize that the “You” come on your own terms, the you, leave on your own terms
And when I beg for you to come back and you mug me on your way back
How am I to know why am I a result of the body?

I wonder if I avoid my perception of the body, it will devoid my thought of the body
so I burn the bodies thinking that would turn my thought
only to realize that the thoughts I thought would turn, gave me more bodies to burn

So I sleep, sleep walk thinking I am awake
Thinking of awake from my sleep, I say to myself that I am awake for I can walk
Only to realize I am in sleep walk and sleep awake

No thought to think
No thing to do and no where to go
I am a slave to repetition
I tuition my mind to the repetition of abomination
Making Abomination as my true notion, as my nation

Seeking pleasure in pain and pain in pleasure
For the nectar of pain is sweeter than the emptiness
Sweeter than the no thing that I have to face

For my face has million masks to make me gasp every time I look in my own Cask
Maybe there will be a time, a moment in time to look at my time to realize that I have no time

For the You has everyone and the I have None
Maybe then, I wake up to clean up my makeup

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Why

The answer to every question is why
and the question to every answer is why
I speak not of “Why?” but I speak of “Why”
For this “Why?” is seeking/dependent on the answer from the other and this “why” is independent of the answer

When I live in why, fear in the why and love in the why
Maybe then I will be able to understand for myself,
the why that is questioning, the why that has the questions, the answers, the fear and the love

Maybe then, I may come across the why that is questioning the why
For in this why, I may find out the why behind the why that raised the why within the why

And in this why that raised the why, this why that is questioning the why, I may find out not an answer, to the why to the why, but a different kind of question
Rather than ending the question with an answer, I may come across the question to the question

Now maybe if I question the question that is questioning the question
I may come across the why, that is asking the why that is asking the why, that there is a why to the why to the why.

This may look like, I am trying to get to a point of origination of the why to my trained mind but it is not
So long as there is a point of origination, a root, then that root becomes my reference point, that becomes my perception, My filter, my new reality, my own confinement to find an answer within the other / a self, separate thought within the thought

For each reality I create with my perception is another illusion, for my perception is also an illusion and each illusion I create is my new reality, for my perception is my reality
For both reality and illusion are perceptions of the same mind, same thought

So now that I question the why that is questioning the why that is questioning the why, not to find an answer, not to do this or that and simply questioning why
I wonder of the state of that mind
I wonder of the state of that very thought

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Survival as My Revival

For a few loaves of bread and a few grains of grub
In-between the joys of pleasure and in the sorrows of pain
I find my life I call life, I define this as my life

Enslaved to my desires
Engulfed by the objects of my desire
I make my desire my attire
And I roam the streets of slavery in the savory of my for hire

Unable to create a life on my own
I recreate and procreate on the knife of pleasure and pain

Lost in the images of imagination, I build walls of hallucination
And I deck my walls with accusations of the other

Comfort as my fuel
Comfort of Security as my duel
I burn in the flames of my own habit

Unable to open up to the unknown
I stone the unknown for the known, to the known, through the known

I trade freedom for security to find freedom through security
For I know of no freedom without security

I wonder if I am dreaming, if I am asleep
Only to realize that the dreamer and that which is being dreamed are me, one and the same
I wonder of that which I wake up to, I wonder if that is another dream within my dream of the dream

Unknown of my own known, I weave a web of a prison, a prism
Where I am the thief ad I am the police

Tired of the games and afraid of the memes and the names of the memes
Walloped by my own imagination, I no longer can gallop through my memory of life
For my life has become a few grains of grub and few loafs of bread

Survive

Survival

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