The Morning’s Dream

I feel borne out of ashes.  Although what I was formerly I have no complete recollection.  Perhaps that is why I place myself in between “here and nowhere”.  When I awake I feel mundane and tepid – almost like a failed King after an arduous campaign.  Yet, despite all,  I am aware of my resurrection.  I am conscious that I have not always felt this way.  In fact, recently have I felt differently. Curious that one can move within such extreme spaces.  But do we forsake one space to move to next, or are we ever coasting along the shore of possiblity – where in an instant we can walk from shadow to dusk or travail death to life?  Apparently, that which composes me grants me the ability to experience both my death and my life – but to what end? 

Is my consciousness the answer? Is my experience the Truth? or am I yet deceived and only imagine my death in order to expound my life? Perhaps my resurrection will recur and after more experience I can perceive its significance.   Hopefully, the disorientation of wandering somnolently will be remedied as well; and transition (change) will be digested more politely.  Too bad, my memory malfunctions.  Still,there lurks a feeling in the bosom of my soul, a latent fact that assures me I am not lost and what I am now I have always been.  And whatever I become I ever possess the power to be.  My light shines.   Maybe after successive destructions and perpetual beginnings I can grasp again that which I was.  I can use the memory of my glory to escape the cycle of the mundane.  The King can return to the throne of Victory. And be redeemed.  Alas, there is no longer darkness in change but only the genius of my contents. My light blots out any forgetfulness and I am left to my true devices.  I have moved through the flames of my own soul unscathed and thus my awakening: i live eternally without the confusion of death and impermanence.  I Am. Free.


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