Scattered Thoughts, Like Tears

Life twists and turns,

and sometimes

I just want to burn

a path

sideways

through it all,

scorch the wilderness,

expose the sky

like the inside

of a ripe melon

and consume

the fruit

of my own

scattered

thoughts

as they fall

like rain

or run

like tears

down the face

of a loving God.

***** * *****

Rommentary:

I do not believe in a creator, but in a transcendent will to truth as the Divine Source of all Consciousness within an imperishable, inviolable, eternal existence.

If I tell you I have experienced this truth directly, in fits and starts of seemingly impossible revelation, I might as well tell you a lie, unless you already know.

All my life I've been a student of comparative religion and philosophy, yet I find this truth present in neither, but rather have learned to ascertain it from their conspicuous omissions.

To say any more on this subject here would be unwise, but it is my sacred duty to indicate it or insinuate it through my work. In this sense, existence is a loving God, for it has bestowed upon me, among many sorrows, a grace without which I would otherwise be incapable of enduring.

The poem above was penned during such a revelatory moment as I have alluded.

There are two types of philosphers, primarily: the analyst and the aphorist. I fall more into the latter category, attempting as I have to carry on a tradition I believe starts with the Vedas and Lao Tsu in the East, and which culminates, in the West, in the works of individuals of such disparate character as that of Kierkegaard, Goethe, Nietzsche, Whitman, Dickinson, Gibran, Maeterlinck, Hesse, Kafka, etc.

Yet it is not for me to decide what will become of my work. It is only for me to take these scattered thoughts with which Divinity has blessed me, this Amrit from the ripe fruit of the Heavenly procession, and integrate it into words, as, for whatever reason, this was the gift of association which I was granted here, on Earth, in this material, transitory form.

I can be no other. Having said all that, I'd also like to thank any of you who have read this far and especially those of you that have otherwise engaged with my work, for sticking with me, despite my general lack of interest in the social aspect of the matter.

I would like to make it clear that I am not antisocial, but asocial by necessity. The bulk of the work before me is of an internal nature which is best done through quiet reflection, as the reconciliation of opposites is a volatile process, and it is better to share the fruits of the process than to mire others in the tumultuous and painful growth which groans, growls, bitches, and moans its way agonizingly and slowly from the tortured soil of the so(u)l.

As a man of 46, I am confident that this is the proper path for me, but I did not come to this conclusion lightly. A lot of painful, hard lessons got me here, and through them I have cause for both regret at my own ill-considered decisions and behavior, as well as dismay at the many betrayals which I have suffered from others who nevertheless preferred to believe themselves my benefactor. I covered this latter point best, I think, in my substack article The Thulsa Doom Logical Fallacy, which you can read here.

So, again, thank you, dear reader, just for reading, and coming along with me for another Saturday Morning Stream-of-Consiousness Essay in the form of a Rommentary on a small poetic offering which I hope made the trip worthwhile.