This poem about Krishna and Arjuna mainly advocates one taste, not going into opposition, the duality of good and evil. It’s also about fearlessness, hearing ones own heart and intuition, when one sees how things are. A poem by Jacek Dziubiński.
We are the Scarlet Women. Some called sluts and whores. We are emanations of Divine Mother, forced deep into the subconscious. Forced out of fear.
This track was inspired by the life-changing book by Yamamoto Tsunetomo about The Way Of The Samurai. It is a reflective piece trying to evoke the place, mentality and spirit of myself during that impressionable age and how the book radically changed me.
Someone (but who?) shakes up the jar like Poseidon Toying with waves and fish Us, that is, Who are plunged in the pliant core of… Read More »FISH
Poetry about the tantric view of the five elements that make up our natural landscape—earth, water, air, fire, and space—as divine in their pure nature. These elements combine on multiple levels to form the endless displays we call life.
Spiritual awakening is an experience of the heart not the mind; once we drop into our heart and feel the natural longing for the divine, can our hearts begin to open, revealing the divine with us all along.
APORIA In memory of Aleksander Wat it looks it sees at a single (infinitesimally small) point the consciousness of the universe the thing it looks… Read More »APORIA
Let us not stop asking ourselves why we are here, Let us not pretend to be content without conquering our fears, Let us not give up our chances, Let us not foolishly act helpless blaming circumstances.
Okay let me pretend, let me begin, Let me again separate without and within, In an attempt to speak the truth let me become a liar,
Lets once again try to define the flavor of forever.
The black crow lay broken. The body open. The insides of a once warm breast, spilled now, upon tarred street, and exposed to city dust.
The truth he transcended, And with it worldliness he ended, The garden of virtue he well tended, And became so alive that we seemed dead. He saw of what he was made, Or rather in truth “unmade”
Dearest Ones, We have so many personas, We live in the private world, Of Dharma, The expression of Wisdom, We share, The offering of those that, Know how to share the wisdom
Nothing confirms to it’s existence, For where does it go in silence, My thoughts, my invisible thoughts, To give it existence so hard I fought. Not in my eyes or ears, Yet I was scared believing in fears; My thoughts, my invisible thoughts, As if visible so hard I fought.
Beauty just is, She was not, nor will be, Beauty is bliss, Lost in freedom for she is naturally free. Beauty is a kiss, Where you and me disappear into we.
