True to my heart,
the living apart,
the dead turned alive,
to live by the side...
Amongst echoing wastes,
and commerce and haste,
I watch the shoreline
for the approaching divine.
In a sense my eyes masked,
in a sense my ears do hide,
as I keep all of myself
on the inside.
Like my spirit that grows,
like my heart that flows,
like my radiant hope,
that everyone really knows.
But can I be?
a candidate free?
a sentient sense-maker
whose insanity longs
to never be.
Nathan Moschkin '96
Articulating what it is that I intuitively know has been one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. To ascribe to human language that which cannot be directly understood. I consider myself to be of rather gracious flow, and a person for whom words do not instill fear or frustration but simply, a need for metaphor.
Ever wonder how it is that the Bible makes more sense as a child's fairy tale? Jesus knew that. He likes the book, but it's time to put it on the shelf. Human language needs to evolve further; although we're beyond baby-talk, spirituality seems to relate to people easiest in that sense, don't you think?
I think I woke up early.
When covered uncovers,
When sail does walk,
When toil does rest and
the rest are the soil
When X becomes O,
When Y becomes Z,
When salvation costs nothing,
when the wind is safe as sound,
when sand is a mirror in the ground.
When Leary Land is just another room in the house;
when the house is the galaxy, and the ethers.
When the worlds melt thin, and ash becomes wave.
When upside down is upside up;
and right is left,
and left is right,
and right is wrong,
and wrong is nothing but 'rythmes with' song or bong.
or even the gerbil running in a foregone conclusion.
in this the contusion of the fourth tongue, the forked tongue; the language circuit, or the language of the language.
But language is between, and between the words and between the meaning, and between the word between and its meaning. is the truth.