That Which I See

-THAT WHICH I SEE-

That which I see

is mostly what I think,

When the thinking stops,

I go blind.

The inner-scape of my outer-view

Holds no form,

The pure flow of an energy formless remains.

That which I see is like a river,

Every attempt to grasp it slips through,

No matter the allure, it is replaced,

And I, the one perceiving, disappears

Into the witness.

That which is seeing,

Becomes senseless,

And all with which I identify,

Becomes a wind upon the face of the deep,

upon my every attempt

to be seen in a particular way,

The memory fades

And only silence remains,

The silence where no anticipation unravels.

That which I see

through the corridors of my mind,

Sing the multiple layers of time,

Finite and infinite,

The great weaving song of mystic space,

So what is of value to what I hold on to?

Except for the loosening grip

of one story birthing another,

until nothing is left of that which I see,

and only the empty vessel of my surrender remains.

That which I see goes beyond seeing,

as I fall into the arms of trust,

and universal grace,

where love welcomes me home.

-Tru Starhorse July 20th, 2023

(Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay)