The Truth in His Face
Written by takuin on Saturday, May 3, 2008 – 4:34 pmThe eyes are set deep in the head,
constantly looking, constantly alert.
What unimaginable things, timeless things,
have they seen?
The wrinkles run deep,
carved into the face.
Each line a memory,
scarring a soul
that can’t let go.
Death,
Pain,
Age,
and Hate,
have all paid rent
in his old face.
The brow furrows as he starts to think. The energy nearly knocks me over. Why resist what is?
I cannot share what is imagined, cannot wish for what should be, but I can feel all that he projects.
“It may hurt you, you’ll fear for what you have to lose, you may cry.”
I can’t tell him it won’t hurt me, but it is true.
“Sorrow may rise, but the freedom you’ve always wanted has never left you. It is the constant companion to your pain, loss, and suffering.”
I wish that something could be done,
that one could do it for you,
but your path is of One,
as all are.
Find out for yourself.
Those lines run deep,
but timelessness
and being,
run deeper than any memory.
Walk with me,
take my hand if you wish,
but do so on your own.
Let go and
don’t look back.
I’ll always love you.
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Posted in Posts, Quick Thoughts |
May 4th, 2008 at 6:39 am
Beautiful. There is that stepping out. Stepping out of memory, of pain, of identity. A path each of us must take for ourselves, stepping out of the layers of illusion. And then we discover there never was an other, an alone, a doing.
May 7th, 2008 at 9:19 am
Thanks for the compliment, Davidya.
Stepping out is a nice phrase. Not only a stepping out of memory, pain, and identity; there is also the stepping out of the path entirely.
Well said.
May 8th, 2008 at 4:43 am
Nice, Takuin. Beautiful and I love the turn your posts are taking. You stopped explaining and explanation is flowing through. From soul to soul.
Smile
May 8th, 2008 at 8:42 pm
Thanks Nur. Always nice to see you here.
I’ll save explaining for the comments. Haha.
The posts flow in a different way (but only in comparison to before). I have been asked about his in several emails. Before, there was a conscious effort to get the words right. And it felt heavy.
Imagine a flight of stairs. The exit at the top of the stairs represents expression. The walk up the stairs represents the work needed to get the words out. Before, it felt like walking up the stairs wearing several pairs of leg irons. The expression was there, but it took work to get through the doorway.
Now, the words tumble out in a bizarre way, but there is no effort. It feels like beautifully falling up the flight of stairs, but with no pain, discomfort, or heaviness.
Tumbling seems to be the right word. Sometimes, when in the act of writing, I am not actually sure if what I am doing makes any sense at all. But in the end, it seems to work out.
Thanks!
May 9th, 2008 at 12:35 am
Nicely put. There is this fine balance of allowing the flow and channeling it into words - the tumbling part. How to be there to express it but not ruin what is coming. I’ve been drafting a series of late as the ideas arise, so the logical structure is not all there, but the unfolding discovery is revealed. Fascinating process, to write from the not me.
May 9th, 2008 at 1:05 am
Yes, I love the flow . And Davidya says its beautifully.