What Can Be Said when Silence Devours Each Word?

What can be said when silence devours each word?

What can be taught when an infinite unknown surrounds each moment?

What can be added to this moment of silence?

What can I prefer, when every thing is nothing but a horizon?

Emptiness pouring itself into nothing.

Light merging with darkness.

Darkness hiding behind the splendor.

Nothing is, nothing will be, and nothing ever was.

All witnessing is just the intersection of gentle, soft strings.

It’s just the interplay of word over vibration, creating the illusion of continuity; creating the sensation of tapestry and feel.

And in the intersection of light and dark, there by the Road’s End, the weaver weaves.

The hands create tales and sights untold: untruth, meaningless, fathomless, groundless.

And there by the Road’s End, where the ways intersect, you can almost hear the weird sound of the ticking and tapping of the Kindly Ladies; making, weaving your life; ending your life and all.

For all that begins, one day comes to an end.

There by the Road’s End in the intersection of paths.

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The Immense Distances of Your Voice

And it is precisely at this moment that I see the silent shivering of the stars that have traversed not just the vast empty ocean, but also an immense ocean of time to be able to be here, as light and as silence, among sounds and shadows.

But I see more, infinitely more.

I see clearly that precisely like this you, my beloved, have emanated your silence and your light through the depths of the abyss of void so that my eyes might open, so that my ears can hear your silences, so that my mind might dissolve in the immense distances of the eternity of your voice.

Fueling

Vuelo con tu canción de mar y grillos. Vuelo y beso tu rostro de cielo claro y vacío. Se expanden mis alas hasta los límites de aquel horizonte donde las playas de la muerte tocan tentativas el gentil oleaje del misterio ancestral, prehistórico y eterno, que retumba y yace preñado y dormido más allá de la mente, soñando playas, valles y llanos en pequeños mundos conscientes jugando a existencias y despertares.

 

Vuelo con Alas de Viento

Vuelo con alas de viento. Me elevan al firmamento cubiertas en plumas de luz. Se deslizan sobre el plateado resplandor de la conciencia vacía y sin fronteras, y así veo desde las alturas la cambiante y fluida creación del pensamiento y la experiencia.

Y así la creación misma, efímera y eterna a la vez, se presenta en su aparente extensión bajo mis alas de claridad solar.

Extiendo entonces mis alas, agarro altura, y me elevo aún más hasta que ya no tengo alas ni viento, pues soy el corazón del cielo, y mi rostro se extiende hasta el límite de la ilusión, cubriendo el espacio entre el mundo bajo el sol y el infinito vacío que sostiene al sol y las estrellas de donde todo surgió y donde todo se disolvió.

I’ve Learned

I’ve learned to show strength
when there was weakness.

I’ve learned to lure an enemy with weakness
when there was strength.

I’ve been manipulated into someone else’s morality.

It’s the way that they say:
He’s not a tattletale.
He’s honest.
He’s kind.
He’s generous.
He’s a ‘Good Christian’.
He sacrifices for others.

It’s the way that they say anything
to get you to do what they want you to do.
It’s their own lie they plant in you.

People manipulate each other
by praising each other’s weaknesses.
When you buy into these lies
and neglect your higher duty
to not violate the moral control of others
you compromise the things and people around you
that are of that higher obligation
and there to help.

There is only one question:
What is truth?
This truth is your compass,
not the illusion presented before you.
If you know what truth is,
you will act in truth.
And what others do doesn’t matter.

It’s a game
and it’s all happening in a dreamland.

When you can think ahead 10 moves,
you’re getting good.
When you can think ahead 20 moves,
you’re an expert.

The Grandmaster see’s only one move:
the right move.

The right move is truth.
And that is always done from above.

(From a lecture by Koyote The Blind, poetically curated by Season)

The Grain of Sand

But if it’s true that there will be other tomorrows, other dreams, and even other destinies, today today is only the surrender that pulls me; just so, without hopes or memories of other dawns, without nostalgias or hopefullies, but only with the immediate dissolution into the storm of void that the silence of the heart of your night brings to my present as the most complete word that declares a mortal end to the grain of sand that one dawn dressed up with life and came to be me.

Yo que Soy Mortal

Tan solo el eterno sol en las alturas se ve más allá de la profundidad existencial de tu cuerpo. Ese sol que viaja ya más allá de todo límite y toda ilusión. Es el sol de mi más íntimo centro; y estando por encima de todo vivir y todo sentir se ve no sumergido por ti, mi bien amada, sino reflejado en cada gota de ti, pintando sus destellos en tus olas, besando tus profundidades con su ardor, y recorriendo tus vaivenes.

Yo que soy mortal me sumerjo en ti. Yo que soy eterno divino me reflejo en ti. Y al final del día, hasta el mismo sol quiere sumergirse en tu vientre, como reflejo efímero de su eterno sumergir al disolverse como estrella en el océano eterno del infinito vacío.

I Submerge Myself in You

Only the eternal Sun in the heights is beyond the existential depths of your body.

It’s a star that travels beyond all limit and all illusion.

It is the sun of my most intimate center, and being above all life and all sense, finds itself not submerged by you, beloved of mine, but reflected in each drop of you, painting his gleam on your waves, kissing your depths with his ardour, and surfing your undulations.

I, who am mortal, submerge myself in you. I, who am eternal divine, reflect myself in you.

And at the end of the day, even the sun himself wants to submerge in your womb, as ephemeral reflection of his eternal submersion when dissolving as star in the eternal ocean of the infinite void.

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.