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Thomas Clark Veatch
His door, hand, eyes, heart
"As self recognizes self, I know you.
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10/2004
5/2003
It is the fear of the emptiness
A formless form of love is like
In love I do not panic;
Confused recently (especially? or no more than ever)
Good, good, this is good, that is good.
("Good" is a good feeling.
Wanting to get somewhere
Constructing emotions
Crying, thinking, I'm tired. I don't know what to do and
Reality is closer, almost visible now.
(I disapppoint myself, "almost" is "not".)
Nowhere, older, unsatisfied. Going to sleep.
Beloved Morning
Envelop my tired shoulder
with your morning breasts.
Breathe your loving hmm
into my ear.
Press the saving snooze bar
and help me see the day
inside my heart,
inside my life,
inside our love.Consciousness with soft edges.
The empty space between
the things experienced:
Is it a hard, cold, life-killing vacuum?
Or is the hardness in those sensations and thoughts themselves?
that pulls back, panicked,
from the edge of definite experience,
which builds a feeling of hardness into that boundary
between something and nothing.
a feeling of warmth and softness
in that emptiness.
It is only a melting,
an opening, gently, softly,
to the tender oblivion in all the expanses
between the finite, few, distant,
definite-seeming flickers of semi-graspable experience.
the ephemeral grip of things, this grip ON things, is loosened
in love and the growing knowledge of this.
Like another billow of steam released from a pot cover,
it melts from visible to invisible
before my eyes, in a fearless, emptiness-
focussed consciousness,
with soft edges.
How I happen to feel
I am an invisible flame
sending up clouds of intricate smoke,
discrete, dynamic, dissipating.
My thoughts, energetic at first, fade and slip through my fingers.
I must return, if not to see the invisible
then to be closer to the heat,
warmed and enlivened
by the ever new ungraspable
core of being.
Disclaimer
Don't bug me for being "spiritual"
If you're not into it, let's not fight.
Be wherever, but I am here: Let me be.
Play does not demand, it invites.
My inner play thinks, looks into deep pools, shares.
I offer it to you, but you need not accept!
Today's Lesson
Preparing my place, my body, respectfully,
I cry, surprised at my solicitude.
I wonder what to do with my feelings,
what feelings to do.
is my recent answer, solving many questions
of how to feel.
Wishing well
to another solves the question?
How to treat them.
How could it be otherwise.)
before growing that much older.
Next week.
Building feelings
is altogether disturbing, confusing, mystifying.
I don't have to
do anything. That's the answer.
Just rest, let me be.
But I'm not dead yet.