online today!socrates44 Poetry (156)

Spiritual but not religious
what does it really mean
This claim is quite prevalent
on today's scene

Is it just a new age fad
or is it contradictory
If in fact it is the latter
then what is the discrepancy

Religion has divided a person
into body, mind and spirit
It claims it seeks the spirit's welfare
and is sincere about it

If religion really deals with the spirit
then why is there such a fuss
that many still continue to claim
they are spiritual but not religious

when I was young I could run a mile
now I watch the track with a smile
these legs are not like before
in fact they feel quite sore
folks say it's a stage
it's the last page
it is called
the old
age

Forced into womanhood at 12
betrayed by those you trusted
abused daily mentally and physically
forced to sleep in the animal shed
Your escape was short-lived
being captured and returned
to your tormentors

In the mountains
the cruel knife passed
on your innocent face
No, Aisha
that is not cold water
in your nose
It is your blood
your nose is gone
and so are your ears

Your tormentors have gone away
and left you alone to die
But you refused to lay down
and die
With your defiant spirit
you crawled down the mountain
to those who cared
and protected you
and helped you to a new life
away from the evil unjust system
you inherited by birth

What was your crime
to be dealt such cruelty?

words are like a map
and experience is the territory
a map can only give knowledge
"about" the territory
it can never give knowledge
"of" the territory
this can only be obtained
through direct experience

a cup may contain water
but it is not the water

words may point to the truth
but they are not the truth

form may express the essence
but it is not the essence

knowledge may lead to wisdom
but it is not wisdom

having knowledge is being intellectual
having wisdom is being intelligent

knowledge deals with the parts
wisdom deals with the whole

the whole is more than the sum of the parts
wisdom is more than knowledge

the magnificent river
coming down the mountainside
spreading out in its majesty
as it moves towards the ocean
then rising up to the cloud
from where it condenses
on the mountain
as snow or rain
that ends up in the river
repeating the glorious cycle
- the essence of nature

Love is one of life's greatest mysteries
It is the driving force
which shapes man's destiny
It is the very foundation
upon which life itself is built

Love leads
life follows
Love is a way of life
One cannot detach oneself from Love
to make a decision
for Love is life itself

Throughout the ages
the power of Love
has gripped the hearts of men
- mighty men who feared nothing
and made them powerless
to resist its spell

Kingdoms rose and fell
Armies laid others waste
and were laid waste by others
Men died in agony
at the command of a Love-infected leader
Paris and Helen of Troy
in the Trojan War
Samson and Delilah
in the battles with the Philistines
Anthony and Cleopatra
in the Roman Civil War

Love is a potent force
that sometimes makes fools
of earth's mighty men of valour
And yet this same Love
has been an instrument of good
with which nothing can compare

There are many kinds of Love -
a man for his God
a man for his woman
a friend for his friend
a person for his kin
a man for his dog
- these and many more

Though the particular cases differ
the effect of Love is the same
- that feeling which inspires and drives men
to achieve things
they once believed impossible

Many a knight fought great odds
and won for his lady
Many a man leaves his comfortable niche
in society
and goes out to endure
the hardship and pain
of the less fortunate
as he gives of himself unselfishly
to improve their state
because of his love for
His God, duty and ideals

History is filled with leaders
who tried to build
and maintain an empire
with the might of brute force
and failed -
Charlemagne
Alexander The Great
Julius Caesar
Napoleon Bonaparte
Adolph Hitler

And yet
a humble carpenter of Nazareth
who shunned brute force
and violence
built an empire on Love
two thousand years ago
and today it covers
the face of the earth

We are in a continuous state of becoming
with our environment
I am becoming that tree
just as that tree is becoming me
It took in the carbon dioxide that I exhaled
which became part of it
and through photosynthesis converted it to oxygen
which I inhaled becoming part of me
I am the tree and the tree is me
I am becoming that insect, that bird, that animal
and other persons
I breathe in the air they gave up
air that was part of them is now part of me
just as the air I exhaled is now part of them
Earth is becoming me and I am becoming the earth
It becomes me through the food I eat
which comes from the earth
directly or indirectly
and I become the earth through matter
that leaves my body
waste and otherwise
which returns to the earth
to become the earth

He could no longer distinguish
the different voices -
the merry voice from the weeping voice
the childish voice from the manly voice
They all belonged to each other
the lament of those who yearn
the laughter of the wise
the cry of indignation and groan of the dying
They were all interwoven and interlocked
entwined in a thousand ways
And all the voices
all the goals
all the yearnings
all the sorrows
all the pleasures
all the good and evil
all of them together was the world
All of them together was
the stream of events
the music of life
When he did not listen to the sorrow or laughter
When he did not bind his soul
to any one particular voice
and absorb it in his self
but heard them all
the whole
the unity
then the great song of a thousand voices
consisted of one word
OM - perfection

From that hour
Siddharta ceased to fight against his destiny
There shone in his face
the serenity of knowledge
of one who is no longer confronted
with the conflict of desires
who has found salvation
who is in harmony
with the stream of events
with the stream of life
full of sympathy and compassion
surrendering himself to the stream
belonging to the UNITY of all things

Beauty is awe-inspiring
and praise-invoking
the source of eternal joy
the essence of truth

It's a timeless, ageless wonder
inspiring the human soul
filling it with a quiet ecstasy
that permeates one's inner being
with a sense of mystic wonder

He always wanted to explain things
But no one cared.
So he drew.
Sometimes he would draw
and it wasn't anything.
He wanted to carve it in stone
or write it in the sky,
and it would be only him and the sky and
the things inside him that needed saying.
It was after that that he drew the picture.
It was a beautiful picture.
He kept it hidden under his pillow
and would let no one see it.
He would look at it every night
and think about it.
When it was dark and his eyes were closed,
he could still see it.
When he started school,
he brought it with him,
not to show anyone,
just to have it along like a friend.
It was funny about school.
He sat at a square, brown desk,
like all the other square, brown desks.
He thought it should be red.
And his room was a square, brown room,
like all the other rooms.
It was tight and close and stiff.
He hated to hold the pencil and chalk,
his arms stiff, his feet flat on the floor.
Stiff,
the teacher watching and waiting.
The teacher came and spoke to him.
She told him to wear a tie
like all the other boys.
He said he didn't like them.
She said it didn't matter.
After that they drew.
He drew all yellow.
It was the way he felt about morning,
and it was beautiful.
The teacher came and smiled at him.
"What's this?" she said, "Why don't you
draw something like Ken's drawing?
Isn't that beautiful?"
After that, his mother bought him a tie,
and he always drew airplanes and rocketships
like everyone else.
And he threw the old picture away.
And when he lay alone looking at the sky,
it was big and blue and all of everything,
but he wasn't anymore.
He was square inside and brown,
and his hands were stiff.
he was like everyone else.
The things that needed saying
didn't need it anymore.
It had stopped pushing.
It was crushed.
Stiff,
Like everything else.

The present -
tomorrow's past
yesterday's future
Is the past an illusion?
Is the future a fantasy?
What is Time?
Our scientists cannot say
If there are no events
to measure it
will Time exist?
Did it have a beginning?
Will it have an ending?
What is Time?