Alero de Todas mis Iniquidades

Al crecer te escuchaba cuando me hablabas con mis pensamientos, cuando me susurrabas en la consciencia, cuando irradiabas tu beso en mi íntimo sentir.

No importaba si tu respondías con silencio o con inspiración, el punto es que cada palabra, obra y omisión la sentía recibida; y por tanto cada palabra, obra y omisión era siempre ofrecida a ti, mi eterno acompañante, mi aliado en todo, el dios de todos mis rezos, la musa de todas mis inspiraciones, y el alero de todas mis iniquidades.

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La Lejanía Inmensa de tu Voz

Y es preciso en este instante en el que veo el silencioso titiriteo de las estrellas que han recorrido no solo el vasto océano vacío, sino también un inmenso océano de tiempo para poder estar aquí, como luz y como silencio entre ruidos y oscuridades.

Pero veo aún más, infinitamente más.

Veo claramente que precisamente así tú, mi bien amada, has emanado tu silencio y tu luz a travez de las profundidades del abismo de vacío para que mis ojos puedan abrirse, para que mis oídos escuchen tus silencios, para que mi mente se disuelva en las lejanías inmensas de la eternidad de tu voz.

The True Nature of Suffering

Suffering is nothing but the shadow cast by the light of the Sun upon the Earth. The Sun within itself, in its unity, does not cast a shadow. The shadow of suffering is only the natural result of the interference.

The Absolute is, when in its true center, not subject to division and therefore not subject to suffering. The suffering of the Absolute is only a result of the division caused by the descent through the Abyss. Duality and division are caused in that descent of the Absolute into each and every one of us (who host or carry that consciousness, that light of the Star which is truly our deepest nature).

To immerse oneself in the little suffering of one’s own shadow, and to declare such little suffering to be the true nature of existence is to close your eyes to the light of your true nature.

If you do that, you simply perpetuate the misery of your own lie, as if your shadow is real (negating even the necessary truth of the light that must shine for a shadow to emerge).

Pregnant with Your Light

Pregnant with your light, I hold the pen with my fingers. The old mind attempts to give birth, but silence wins this battle.

And just like that, without reason or purpose the pen touches the empty paper, and together give sense and direction to the whirlwind of silence that your breath impregnated in my being.

It started precisely like this, as the small particle of ink that doesn’t amount even to a drop, that has no sense or reason but that without possible barrier initiates by subtle and delicate movement of wrist and fingers the letters and words of torrential light that give expression to that which inundates me in plenitude.

Like this, at last, comes a clamor for you. Like this materializes in the expressionless void a river of ink and word that perhaps one day might reach the vast sea. Or perhaps it will never reach, and will simply evaporate drop by drop, becoming imperceptible vapor, one with the sky, without direction or ambition until some day comes to be storm, dew, or rainbow in the sky blue.

–Koyote (translated from Spanish) 06-13-2015

I Find You in the Silence

I find you in the silence of the ‘I’ that is never there, and I know myself in the certainty of your undeniable presence.

I hear you in the encounter. I encounter you in the silence, when the ‘I’ no longer speaks and no longer acts.

There, in the midst of action and word without the separated self; there, in the union of the one who acts and the one who observes; there we are silence, act, and naught.

Don’t Expect Truth from Thought

What is this terrible anxiety that makes people angry when others think differently? Where does this insecurity come from that makes people bully, belittle, and attack all differing thought? Why feel threatened or insulted if others don’t see things your way?

Use thought as a tool, no more and no less. Use it to test reality, to question, to analyze, and to play poetic games.

Do not trust thought to reflect truth. Do not hang on to a belief as if it were your true self.

To expect others to think like me is like wanting everyone else to dress like me. I am not my thoughts, they are but mere tools for the mind.

Lost Days

The thunder and clouds brought a herald of paradise. They penetrated the veil of night and arrived playing with the dawn. Behind stayed the oppressive heat of the last days. They stay almost in the oblivion while the sky plays with lights and stentor, teases with rain, and caresses my body with fresh breezes of lost days.

Could these be the lost days, the ones I didn’t live, the days of exile? Could this be why these lightnings smell like remembered oblivion? Could this be why this rain comes without being here, and wets the earth without falling? Could it be why this day I live without being here, remembering what I never lived, and I hug you welcomed in the absence that never was and in the void that fills me in plenitude?

Dias Perdidos

El trueno y las nubes trajeron un aviso de paraíso. Atravesaron el velo de la noche y llegaron jugando con el alba. Atrás quedó el calor opresivo de los últimos días. Se quedan casi en el olvido mientras el cielo juega con luces y estruendos, coquetea con llover, y acaricia mi cuerpo con brisas frescas de días perdidos.

¿Acaso serán estos los días perdidos, los que no viví, los del exilio? ¿Será por por esto que estos relámpagos huelen a olvido recordado? ¿Será por esto que esta lluvia viene sin estar, y humedece la tierra sin caer? ¿Será por eso que en este día vivo sin estar aquí, recuerdo lo que no viví, y te abrazo bienvenido en la ausencia que nunca fue y en el vacío que me llena a plenitud?