truth

Threshold

The voice of the teacher,
is a note on the air,
spooling a story,
threads of alchemy.

Eyes meet with yours,
a flash of comprehension,
a breath of understanding held,
as the magic word is proffered,
one syllable, a phrase,
simple sounds charged with power.

The door is in front of you,
plain wood,
a simple catch.
No fanfare, no trumpets,
but the unspoken offer
borne within that breathed word.

The promise on your tongue,
a vocal key.
The choice unfurls
a peaceful landscape in your mind.

To say it,
to unlock the secret lock,
to step over the threshold
into the space waiting.

It is yours to take.
The story given,
the secret revealed,
the journey offered.

The way inward,
begins with a word,
spoken, or perhaps,
kept silent,
a truth recognized,
and finally,
stepped across.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
The Unheard Resonance

The messenger walks alone,
a solitary silhouette
against the uproar.

Truth-
a stripping away,
a release
from grasping hands.

Life-
a spiral of paradoxes,
wealthy threads unseen,
humming on notations
withheld from others.

Relationships stretch,
tense and far,
across ground of varying mind.

Wisdom spoken
in a forgotten language,
falling on ears
that cannot decipher its old script.

Misunderstood-
a loud echo,
how can they perceive
the revealed gem
when they hold only
familiar stones?

The great ones, too,
traveled this path
a lonely expanse
before the dawn
of understanding.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
The Invitation

Do you see
the wounds on arms?
Is forgiveness revealed?
Has polarity forged a path—
a space between to dance?

When we shut our doors
and close access to ourselves
for those we love,
it’s not because we
fear them.
It is because
we fear ourselves.

We lace our secrets with poison
to prevent them from
sprouting into the light,
hoping they’ll die.

The shameful feeling
of our past choices haunts us,
for we have not learned
the lessons,
and have not changed
and grown,
to realize what
we’ve become.

Thinking of others,
knowing myself,
a life is lived.
I arrived naked,
and I’m leaving naked.
What we hear
is what we get.

Not perfect
without imperfections
and mistakes.
Complete and
wholesome by trial.

I strived for kindness
and love.
Accepted both my challenges
and my gifts.

I met magical people—
each, a teacher.
Misunderstood, I walked.
Welcomed but not embraced.

Pick up your true relationship,
and throw it up
towards the light.
Step outside your box,
and into the free
open horizon.
Rise from beneath the earth
to soar above.
It will lift you up
by its strings
that are bonded
with you.

At the end of this excursion
and its expedition of light,
Death prowls in
with a cordial welcome.
Like an amiable, genial host
for all of us who instinctively
and involuntarily
receive his faded invitation
at the moment of our birth.

His long-anticipated alleviation
comes startlingly,
only to hit us
with the certainty
of a sacred approach.
As we emerge
into his loyal audience,
and he into our past,
our new navigator.

We instantly exit
and we enter,
another ingredient
of who we are.
—The cook prepares the feast—
The clarity
of this new mode announces
the fearless recurrence
with jubilation.

I will not resist.
I forgive myself.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
Once Upon a Time

Time is our most precious gift—
a true welcoming.
I welcome you,
and you welcome me.

Time is an embrace,
the quiet thread that connects.
The author of context,
of meaning.
A dimension,
a perspective—
the perception born of imagination.

Do not spend your time
on what will not remain
with you,
for as long as your consciousness
breathes,
you are.

Choose—and simultaneously be chosen.
The people, the moments,
the story you share.
Not because you are better,
or more rare,
but because your life
is yours.
And it matters.

The peace of this awareness
gives rise to wisdom:
we are all equal.

Only when all are free
can one be free.

Bread breaks open in the oven.
And for every reason to despair,
there are endless wonders
waiting to unveil themselves
to those who keep their eyes—
and hearts—open.

Recall how fire sparks:
a harmonious synchronicity
of heart, mind, and soul.
Two scratch one another,
beneath the surface.

Do not say,
“We could’ve had a wider field,”
or “We might’ve reached the horizon.”
“I could’ve, I should’ve”
Create it.
Make it real.
Be wholly, genuinely
your amazed,
curious,
giving self.
Hear the bells.

Befriend a tree.
Be the gardener of one tree—
and all that’s hidden
shall be revealed.

The secrets
have always been there,
patiently awaiting
your arrival.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
Whispers of Essence

There’s a story within each of us,
spun from hurt and quiet victories.
Yet beneath the details, the echo of our years whispers the same essence-
a shared longing for connection.

Friends from the cradle,
yet a few sculpt the world with illusions,
spinning the idea that unity is forged
only in the fire of a common enemy.
But how can that be true,
when kindness is our first language?

Life grows complex
beneath the veils we sew,
when its essence thrives
in the simplest of truths.
Water flows freely,
gifted by nature’s grace.
Food flourishes in soil
untainted, unclaimed.
The breath we take—pure, unseen—
renews every atom, every pulse of life.

Would we not thrive,
if we cast off the burdens
and embraced the abundance
that was never meant
to be possessed?

Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.
Illusions of Perception, Power of Clarity

Reality isn’t the way you perceive the world.
It isn’t your thoughts about life,
Nor is it the things around you.

These are the illusions,
The grand narratives we tell ourselves,
To make sense of the unknown.

Reality is perceiving what is—
Unfiltered,
Untouched by bias or expectation.

Clarity is both wisdom and power.
To see clearly is to witness the essence of all things,
Stripped down to their purest forms.
In that vision lies freedom.

Perception is a veil we draw over truth,
Shaped by fears, desires, and beliefs.
It convinces us to see scarcity where there is abundance,
Isolation where there is connection,
And loss where there is infinite potential.

To pierce this veil is to reclaim the fullness of reality.

When we give,
We often feel vulnerable,
As though something has been taken from us.

This sense of loss,
This echo of emptiness,
Is a distortion—
A negative energy born from a misunderstanding of abundance.
It resonates at a lower frequency,
Diminishing our vitality.

But in truth, giving creates connection.
It opens channels unseen,
Forming bonds that ignite the spark of light.

The friction of this connection doesn’t take—
It illuminates.
It lights the mind,
Awakening it to receive wisdom beyond comprehension.

The vulnerability we feel in giving is not loss,
But the courage to merge,
To blend,
To expand beyond the self.

In that merging lies abundance—
A space where creation unfolds,
Limitless and radiant.

What would the world look like,
If we embraced giving not as sacrifice,
But as the ultimate act of creation?

Could we learn to see vulnerability not as weakness,
But as the doorway to connection and growth?

Reality is waiting—
Not in how we think,
Perceive,
Or judge,
But in how we allow ourselves to be and to give.

Step into it,
And let the spark illuminate your path.

Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.
Unshackled

Trapped in a fantasy,
Ensnared in a dreamscape,
A gilded cage of your own design.

Paralyzed by fear,
Roots of doubt anchoring you to illusion,
Afraid to truly live.

Shielding yourself from
The guardian,
While baring your soul to
The hunter.

Doubting virtue,
Condemning it as vice,
While trusting the wicked,
As if malice were grace.

Clarity is absent,
Lost in the fog of self-deception,
Discernment deceived,
A compass spinning wildly,
Wisdom is a forgotten art,
Buried beneath layers of false knowing.

Arrive in the present.
Be here, now.
Show up for life.

Leave the foreign shadow.
Don’t miss the raw, unfiltered moment.

It’s simple—
Yet profound in its simplicity.
Slow your mind,
Let it breathe.

Unshackle yourself,
Break the chains of false perceptions.
Emerge from the cocoon of fear,
Spread wings of authenticity.

In the clarity of presence,
Find the strength to be vulnerable,
The courage to be real,
The wisdom to discern truth from lies.

Embrace the unscripted moment,
Where life’s true magic unfolds.
In nakedness of spirit,
Discover the freedom of being.

Unshackled at last,
Step into the light of your own truth,
Where every breath is a celebration,
And every moment, a rebirth.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
The Stranger’s Truth

It is hard being misunderstood,
Like a book written in a forgotten tongue.
Misunderstanding denies
The existence of identity,
Self and truth,
A erasure of the soul’s fingerprint.

Feeling misunderstood,
Is a feeling of non-acceptance
Of who we are,
A rejection of our inner landscape,
Mountains of experience flattened
By the bulldozer of presumption.

Accept or pass,
Don’t deny.

My misunderstandings are
Simple to understand,
Like clear water mistaken for air.

I am always a stranger,
A traveler in a land of familiar faces.
And I always become
A stranger,
Even to those closest
To me.

People sense the breath
Of depth,
An ocean beneath a still surface,
And assume intentions,
Sometimes they assume,
Bad intentions.

But the truth is
What they sense
Is an unfiltered directness,
A deeper meaning,
Waiting to be uncovered,
Like buried treasure beneath
The sands of superficiality.

There is no veil,
There is essence.

In this world of masks and mirrors,
I stand naked in my truth,
Unbreakable, a paradox.

Misunderstood, yes,
But in the quiet of self-knowledge,
I find the acceptance
The world often fails to give.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
Born Naked

Born naked,
No boundaries,
But bonds of
breath and being.

Born naked,
Free, with no borders,
Just curiosity’s flame.
A lighthouse in the fog.

Identity,
Not in this chapter,
Not in this lesson,
A blank canvas,
Awaiting society’s brush.

Meaning and service,
Imagination and tranquility,
Gratitude and exploration,
Yet often traded for
Comfort in conformity.

We teach ours
And theirs,
Presentation and acts,
Masks worn daily,
Truth lost in the act,
Authenticity, a forgotten script.

Who’s watching over us?

We don’t teach faith,
We teach worship of idols.

We don’t teach questions,
We teach answers prepackaged,
Easy to digest,
Hard to escape,
Mental fast food.

We don’t teach thinking,
We teach status,
The climb over others,
A race with no end,
Sisyphus in a suit and tie.

Likes over essence,
Thrills over purpose,
Moments of euphoria,
Digital applause in an empty auditorium.

Who’s watching over us?
Our forgotten selves, perhaps,
Peering through the cracks.

From naked truths
To clothed deceit,
We walk life’s wardrobe,
Trying on identities like costumes,
Forgetting the skin beneath.

Beneath the layers,
The naked child still breathes,
The flame flickering,
Waiting to be fanned.

Who’s watching over us?
The answer lies in the question,
For in asking, we awaken
To the watchers.

Born naked,
We return to nakedness.

Who’s watching over us?
Let it be our truest,
Guardians of the flame,
That burns at our birth.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.