The Banyan Deer

The deer had a chief in the green banyan grove
His ego was bloated with self-loving throes

He thought to himself…
my antlers are fine
my haunches are hard
and I have a keen mind

His long days were spent eloping with does
and taunting young bucks, in the green banyan grove…

But it once came to pass that he fell fast in love
A doe struck his heart like a dart from above

Not a fortnight had passed, and she carried his fawn
He’d sired three-dozen, but he thought them cheap spawn

This time, however
his soul felt a pang

The mother, he loved
and the fawn would bear his name

Yet on a day long ordained
before the hour of birth-pains
five hunters drew near to the grove

Bows at the ready
their hands naught but steady
the hunters came stalking the does

They found her alone
She stood like a stone
the mother who bore the chief’s fawn

By design, he was near
His heart filled with fear
at the sight of five bows that were drawn

She dared not to run
Her limbs had gone numb
She knew not how to process the danger

But the chief was abhorred
He’d seen this before
To the threat, he was ought but a stranger

Heedless of pain
or the danger to himself
afore his love, he sped, and there reeled

In this circumstance
he’d give her a chance
by using his body as a shield

The darts were then loosed
deadly as any noose
They punctured his body with ease

His scream split the air
It raised hackle and hair
The lament unbuckled her knees

It was then that she ran
there outpacing every man
She’d be damned lest her fawn see his life

He watched as she left
there gasping for breath
the Chief who ran not from the scythe

Yet amidst his sharp pain
he felt peace all the same
For once, his intent had been pure

Though spilling his blood
the earth turned to mud
his demise was now all but sure

He then gave up the ghost
His psychic-nature did boast
a vast myriad of thoughts and impressions

From this life, and that
he swirled in a vat
of images, sounds, and reflections

Then, in a blink
his mind on the brink
the Lord stood before him, as one clothed

His voice came as water
the tidings of a Father
To this One, the Chief was betrothed

He stammered in speech that he knew not before
To him this new Lord was a thing of adore!

“My Master” he said
there nursing his dread
“For your servant, what doom do you plan?”

The Lord broadly smiled
His voice, soft, as a child’s
“My son, you’re now fit to be Man.”

One Spirit

The Master beheld the pain in this world
He sought to assuage it with power unfurled

It wasn’t as if the pain was apart
He felt it Himself, right down to his heart

To the blind, He gave sight
To the lame, He gave limbs
The poor and needy, He counted as kin

To the sick, He gave health
To the dead, He gave life
To the mad He gave freedom, and ended their strife

But the pain never ended
What more could He do?
The suffering of man, He felt through and through

He wanted to end it
put it soundly to rest
Perhaps He could do it by taking on death…

The root of all suffering was karma, was sin
He knew how to sponge it, how to burn it within

If any had faith, His power they could use
But to heal so many, His body they’d abuse

If that was the price, “So be it,” He thought
He’d give life and limb to see it all stop

For the renewal of Earth
for the joy of each soul
He’d take on their karma, their sin, and their woe

I feel quite the same as Jesus once did
The suffering of others is a thing I would rid

But my strength and my faith compares not to the Christ
If he is a Lion, I fall with the mice

The death of this one that I call by first name
Is the price that’s required if I’m to master God’s game

With ego in balance and conceit in a vise
with a measure of time, I too will be Christ

Into Him Who is the Head

Wisdom comes with time
In faith, it will brine

The selfless are possessed of God’s might

Ever in doubt
the faithless devout
are to themselves a fey, truncating blight

The Master once said
His power, a thing of dread
to this mountain say move, and it complies

Seek the Lord’s face
Know His power at base
It is the foundation upon which our cosmos relies
 

Enter Grace

Peace feels mysterious
Like a half-recollected dream
or the memory of a childhood friend

It seems natural, and fitting
yet unfamiliar, and strange
like a half-recollected dream
or the memory of a childhood friend

It feels otherworldly
impenetrable
apart from the cares of the mind
yet at one with creation…

Natural
like a stream that finds its way over land

Easily it might be lost
but it is never far

Wherever you may go
it is to this side, and that

Illumination by Grace

Humility is of the Spirit, but pride is of the ego. The first is permanent and true, the other, impermanent and ultimately unreal. An egoistic intellect sees not (nor cares to look) beyond its own contrivance, and supposes that it must construct truth out of its “competence” and “ingenuity”. Being harbored, this vanity will cause great distress within the mind; for the ego must continually validate the supposition that its intellect functions, in itself, as a devise of enlightenment. However, once the intellect realizes that truth arises not out of its own machinations, a great burden is lifted.

Enlightened by grace, the intellect finally perceives that truth must transcend its own ability to reason and contrive. Truth, then, is something of the kind that one must bring himself into alignment with that it may be apprehended through natural intuition. To a mind of genuine humility (and fierce discernment), truth illumines the perception with relative ease; for the humble mind seeks to destroy its personal biases via the process of enlightenment. If, through sapient practice (meditation, prayer, study, dialectic, etc.), truth can be recognized in the subtleties of life, good. However, if truth eludes natural intuition, one must be patient and bring himself back into alignment. Otherwise, the intellect will go about the frantic task of trying to construct a hypothesis in which it might rest its uncertainty. If, for example, the ego expects that it ought to comprehend a complex bit of philosophy (yet genuine comprehension is not forthcoming), it will attempt to force its understanding out of insecurity. This impulse must be resisted. No such contrivance is ever reliable, being groped for and conceived as a result of ignorance. On the contrary, we must seek patiently for the truth, resisting the impulse to fill the void of our ignorance with rubbish.

Though out of pride (and fear), the ego uses the intellect to erect arbitrary knowledge within itself, humility of Spirit is content to wait patiently for genuine intuition. Having been cultivated within the consciousness by Spirit itself, humility recognizes from whence truth arises. All modes of consciousness that are able to bear with humility are those portions of mind that have been absorbed (wholly or partially) by Spirit. It is within these modes of consciousness that the intellect should rest; though more often than not, the immature mind will rest in the egoistic modes. Coming to the point where one is able to recognize whether a thought is characterized by by egoism or Spirit seems to be a tremendous milestone in spiritual development. This ability of the “knower” (Spirit) to cultivate its own consciousness is the means by which all conditioned fear is removed, and not fear only, but any inordinate mode of consciousness. As one grows in this way, the more he puts himself to death by merging mind into Spirit. By virtue of self-death, truth becomes immanent to the mind of he who is mature in humility. His intuition comes by divine nature.

Kingdom

The Avatars are one with God
Each Scepter stings our grim facade

Ensnared by things
the separate- self
revels long in passing wealth

But some whose minds are free and clear
pierce right through this thin veneer

With glory strained into the eyes
they see God in his disguise

First, among the masters great
the Avatars with causal weight

Next, among the Earth so green
each fern is like an astral beam

And finally, within the Self
where unity is God’s true wealth

This wisdom has been passed through time
and all who seek will come to find

inside the heart, its reaches deep
there lies God, the Self to seek

Bearing in Humility, Speaking in Love

Its perfectly ironic that I can be lulled into thinking myself more cognizant than those who appear doggedly fixed on their own, individual perspectives. Does not this idea of superiority indicate my perspective to be of the same dogged nature? In the frankest of moments, its clear to me that I am still immensely immature in regards to all states of sapient consciousness. Pride is evil. It paints the friend as an admirer, and the acquaintance as an unscrupulous pupil. A friend should be regarded as a friend; and an acquaintance should be likened to an unread book, full of mysteries and potential wonders. If the acquaintance is revealed to be insipid, listen to them anyway. Doing so will bolster patience and comprehension. Speak only when prudent. If the Spirit of God compels up in our speech, that which is said will be spoken with purpose, not idly as is the circumstance with vanity.

In this, we must trust our speech and bearing to be guided; for no amount of persistent reasoning will convince a man of subtle truths he knows nothing about and is not given to considering. In all things, I’ve often fancied my own will to be the helmsman, directing all courses and outcomes. Nothing could be further from the truth. In the common presence of others, two practices alone have yielded good fruits: bearing in humility, and speaking in love. To God must be left the planting of all seeds, for his understanding is complete, his sovereignty infallible. Trust will serve us well. Most everything is beyond our control, but God’s purpose is immanent in the world. It can be known, in part, by we who still the voice of derisive judgment,- orator of ignorance for all who might otherwise understand each other.