SELF INQUIRY

Hear this, comprehend clearly as transparent air!
I'm not what I think or imagine that I am;
I'm aware like a cat stalking his fare, I'm aware
I'm not this body, earthy pot of red blooded jam,
Nor mind, mere mechanical word secreting machine,
Or a 'me' who peeps from behind a measly mince meat ball,
A dreamer, deluded by pics which flick across my screen
Of Consciousness, an empty space for 'what is' to fall,
So I leave this torrid, troubled toxic world alone.

Where is the rightful place in 'who I really am?'
An illusive surface, a shimmer, why mourn or moan
About this sandy desert with its camel caravan?
Drug induced visions like Kubla Khan or Avalone,
Emanate from mind, like mists, when hot breath hits cold air.
There's no time, a clockwork convenience conceived by man,
Space and causality are concepts in the errant brain,
No substance, but atoms dancing in an aeon's span,
No mind, a measuring tape, used on this dreamer's train.

No good or evil, right or wrong, fashions of an Age,
Only a birds nest of thoughts, it's best left to lose.
"Nothing perceived or conceived is Real" says my Sage,
"You're not what you seem to be and no one to choose.
So called choice is illusion in the predestined plan,
Free will's only apparent, and ego's pride we use
To usurp Divine Will as mine; that's the sin of Man.
There's nothing, in Truth, for anyone to will or decide,
Know 'That', and be happy, end all thoughts of suicide.

I am eternal, as Consciousness, I am 'That',
Beyond concepts of Holy Father or Mother's balm.
Truth is heard by those who at the feet of Sages sat.
Remember the verse in King David's favoured psalm,
'Be still and know that I Am God' stay silent and calm.
Words are erudite, the real point they always miss,
The Holy Aim is beyond comprehension, I repeat,
The veil that conceals the source of speech is remiss
The other side of knowing is silence, peace replete.

When in mind, I think this world isn't a dream but real,
I feel separate from my Source, yet know all is well,
Unfolding precisely as it must; I trust and feel
No need to bargain with God, as far as I can tell,
All's well each moment, I know 'That' so I let all heal.
Nothing exists, not even these thoughts, they're a thorn
To remove thorns; in Truth there is no thing at all.
I rest, desiring nothing, I am thus unborn,
Empty to be Pure Self Awareness, for peace to fall.

My reason has been jolted, shaken to its inmost core,
By my wildly strange adventures, uniquely so bizarre;
Who am I? to be feeling there's no 'me'? shout hurrah!
I seem to be, intuition, that's flooding through the door,
Drowning my brain and sense perceptions, near and far.
Is there anyone here? Is Awareness my real identity?
Then thoughts broke in and ended my earnest Self Inquiry.
I'm moved again to play the sportive game of life,
Merrily dancing to circumstances piped by drum and fife.