As the waves follow the moon,
and the sun follows the day.
When the owl hoots in the dark night,
and the bats hang in all eternity.
All beings sway and move as one,
the dance of the consciousness song.
The ying, the yang of all things born,
The stars, the heavens, the hell forlorn.
In the depths of our oscillating essence,
the pulsating signals of ubiquitous expression.
This is not to say that we do not suffer,
our turgid karma, an emotional disaster.
Sinking us down to where fear resides,
beneath the stigmas of our cogitative minds.
The darkness, the light, the storm, the blight.
The transient moments of dark and light.
To know one is to feel the other,
Divinity lies in honour of our deceiver.
And when our mortal day is done,
we shall rise with the moon in cognisant wonder.
poem by rob morton
image by pinterest