Vital essence...

“I once asked a bird, how is it that you fly in this gravity of darkness?  She responded, ‘love lifts me’.” ~ Hafiz.

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“Love moves without an agenda.  It just moves because that is its nature, ‘to move’.” ~ Adyashanti.

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Essence is what permeates and fills the shells which move about in this physical world.  Essence is what makes all possible–the trees, the bees, the flowers, the winds, they eyes that lock into each other when there is attraction, and the burning of the Sun above us.  This is what love is–not romantic, sexual, and the rest.  But the essence of The Great Spirit which is all that is, which exists in the present because it fuels all there is, all that is real.

And there is no agendas or purposes for this essence–for how can a self-aware, all-wise entity have any agendas…??  Agendas, purposes, desires, and all ambitions of goodness or wickedness come from a conscious mind, from a mortal thought which one day loves and desires and the next day fears and repulses.

This essence existed always, before the mortal mind was born and will be after, because this essence of Creation is all there is… in darkness and light… beyond the qualities it is all there is… the rest is the shell.  And it is all we know, many times poisoned by the ego and turned into wars and hate.  Man goes after his own terms of love, searches everywhere and anywhere out there, destroys himself over it, blinded, ignorant, not seeing what is in front of him… or within him.

And what is that which creates deep within the being the desire for life if not love…??  What makes you want to read this and seek the truth to better your own life if not love…??

But do not be like the common man, do not put it qualities and aspirations; because when you do, it stops being the true essence of love.  If you do put it qualities and aspirations, it just becomes more garbage from the ego of the ignorant man.

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The Reaper in the Trunk!

"The Reaper in the trunk!"

The night is really dark and bitter cold,
The candy sour and the movie old,
The car is a beauty from the eighties,
I am Richard on a date with Mercedes.
Can't believe I'm watching this drag
Right after landing with this jet lag,
She fell asleep, there is no one around,
No other viewers, now rain is coming down;
No car roof, I should've brought a raincoat.
Damn this weather, the tickets I bought!
Thought this would be for us a fun time!
My girl, candy, the tickets only cost a dime.
I will go take a look in the trunk for a jacket,
Even though fog is here and the wind is a racket.
Jeez, the noise, is someone in the back?!
Christ!!--  I just saw the Reaper in the Trunk! 

                                    ~ By Asa Rodriguez.

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Bubbles...

Blop–  Blop–  Globules of dreams.  Spherical forms of happiness and misery.  Color changing bubbles reflecting her soul and mine, what was gained, what was lost.  At times red.  At times blue.  At times bright recollections, thousands of them, of a past alive and fresh.  At times obscure reminders, millions of them, of a past so miserable and frustrating which I could not bear for the life of me.

Blop– Blop–  The new house on the valley of roses and thorns.  That fateful night of pure romance.  My soul-twin.  And the warm touch of her hand.  The faucet dripping.  The cat which I never loved.  Those Teddy bears which mocked me when I passed our room.  I had made my demands and she had made hers, but it all had been a whirlwind and no one had known what had happened.  I did swim deeply in the love she had offered,  even though I had hated her amusements and characters.  And so she had hated mine.

Blop– Blop–  We had been lovers and enemies.  I see that through the bubbles now.  I surrender to many things now, my immaturity and blindness, my ego and arrogant ways…  But I recognize now through the color-changing bubbles that my surrendering comes too late.  Too late.  The car had deviated from its path and the bridge had marked the next event, and so it had been too late for us…  The bubbles…  The bubbles were awaiting patiently.  And maybe.  Maybe it was written in the stars.  Maybe it was written in our souls.  Only God knows that.

Blop– Blop–  The depth is incredible, there are fish here and it is beautiful, spirits of love and tenderness among my recollections of happiness and sadness; I keep seeing through its mirror, I keep seeing her and she smiles.  And our flesh and thought is old now, dying, dead, because of the bubbles, and because of the car…  The car which forged our destiny, the end of our happiness and misery, the end of our love and hate.