Notes From the Faceless

Aquiminzaque left his home and spoke with winos. They directed him to a clearing in the meadows where he withdrew from all his desires. After spending time with the river and all its wisdom he returned to write down his notes of the never ending epic. A journey of unearthing inner diamonds.

I've battled the mirror for many years, blind to my error.

Blaming all faults on the exterior as if it were all out to get me.

My perception insists that the world is eroding, I am

startled at the sight of my flesh aging fifty years in five breaths.

Distilled landscapes have turned Dali.

If the world melts what be of the drain?

For years, I saw no solution to the suffering.

I began to look forward to the torture, reaching for the shackles.

Each time the sensation of absolute light was obtained,

darkness would entice the gate keepers, the reels of revelation syphoned out.

I was certain an outside entity was controlling the current, but it is I who allowed water to flood what was meant to remain untouched. My being will continue to perceive poverty as a pile of rags. It will be this way until I no longer seek out this narrative.

Atop a mountain, I saw each angel, scribe, and sage that accompanies me always.

Each voice urging me to read from the scroll of self, the one detailing the creator and I being in tandem, inseparable, especially when all seems lost. Paradise in each pupil. Words as the roots of all that may prosper or falter. Amidst the flame lies the tides. In the sea resides the stricken match.

We are as separate as our soul desires. My flesh and my foresight can be taken from me, all I wish to retain is my spirit. It need not be tangible or glamorous but free of dams and ill will.

To reach the end we must begin.

Children of this here earth, destined to dream heavenly dreams.

The kingdom is in my head. No need to outwit the guards.

I should walk in as if it were natural for it is exactly that.

Feet do not learn to walk until they have relinquished each bone.

A prison is woven out of doubt, the parasites you failed to cut from your body.

Do you not find it strange your uniform is that of prisoner and warden?

Desires have welcomed the decomposition I once declared a home.

Every being I've wished to behold departs. Each object I covet withers.

Ingest the impermanent and you will always be hungry.

Possessions wish to over ride the host.

Be hostage to no one.

Uncommon is the being bold enough to be an original print.

Familiarity appeals to the eye, if we are constantly masked by another,

it is impossible to see our faults only that of the brother or mother.

To seek the source of this well, one must not go far.

Look out the window or close the eyes and follow the breath.

Take a walk amongst nature, gaze into star shapes.

Our isms attempt to divide the indivisible. Love favors no doctrine or belief. Love is not absent in the hate spread by gnashing teeth. It is misguided emotion, a yearning to feel fulfilled in a community that wishes to drain you. The mind, body, spirit are perfect in their totality. We use words to categorize and make sense of the senseless.

What I've written now will ring true to some but read as babble to others. The reader gives each letter or comma a sound. Is the word good or evil? Or are they a product of the speakers inflection?

Do what thou wilt with the speech.

Claim me as ALL or NONE. I am myself only because I was taught to see my neighbors, teachers, and family as separate.

Scattered souls awaiting for the Shepard to recover them. What i see now will soon dissolve, once I've retreated from the static once more. The Infinite, Ever Moving Keeper of Things, ensures we will not expire.

The reaper refuses me for I prepared him a feast and welcomed his rap upon the door. Those who know me do not fear me. My journey is dependent upon the faithless. Any ill omen sends them running for the fall out shelter.

If we followed the woman of this Eternal Womb, we'd see she carries scissors. To slice the veil and rid each set of eyes of their blindness.

If the birds rule above me and the worms below, who orchestrates the ordinance of our current plane?