torsdag, maj 17, 2012
So much Spirit to drink
So much Spirit to drink,
there's no time for things.
Drunkenness is our natural state:
... ecstasy the breath of being.
Drunk with Spirit,
the mind clears:
joy cleanses our senses.
This is yummy religion:
me drinking God,
God eating me-
His flame
licking up shadows,
my soul carelessly slurping flame.
If there was a house for God
I would run into it.
This Universe is Her Home
and how can I escape it?
The wind is a breath of angels and men.
Oceans of Love: the soul slips in.
Naked to swim,
we drown in His Love.
If nothing should sing,
then everything sings:
all forms are nothing
when opened to shine.
Nothing and shining,
holy and present
the presence of holy
sings in our cells.
Loving is cleansing,
darkness dissolving
we squirm out of egos
in a river of dark.
Out flows the holy
shining and fluid
as a young star's burn.
Turning to open
the darkness that held us
dissolves.
The play of the holy
in joy we call freedom,
the dawn of the light
as the world awakes slowly,
lost in the pain,
of sharp sorrows and grieving,
disconnected and dreaming
a bright desolate dream-
all things are different
than everything seems.
Joy as a voice,
the free flow of holy
the music of freedom
rhythms and rings:
So much Spirit to drink,
there's no time for things.
Blake Steele
there's no time for things.
Drunkenness is our natural state:
... ecstasy the breath of being.
Drunk with Spirit,
the mind clears:
joy cleanses our senses.
This is yummy religion:
me drinking God,
God eating me-
His flame
licking up shadows,
my soul carelessly slurping flame.
If there was a house for God
I would run into it.
This Universe is Her Home
and how can I escape it?
The wind is a breath of angels and men.
Oceans of Love: the soul slips in.
Naked to swim,
we drown in His Love.
If nothing should sing,
then everything sings:
all forms are nothing
when opened to shine.
Nothing and shining,
holy and present
the presence of holy
sings in our cells.
Loving is cleansing,
darkness dissolving
we squirm out of egos
in a river of dark.
Out flows the holy
shining and fluid
as a young star's burn.
Turning to open
the darkness that held us
dissolves.
The play of the holy
in joy we call freedom,
the dawn of the light
as the world awakes slowly,
lost in the pain,
of sharp sorrows and grieving,
disconnected and dreaming
a bright desolate dream-
all things are different
than everything seems.
Joy as a voice,
the free flow of holy
the music of freedom
rhythms and rings:
So much Spirit to drink,
there's no time for things.
Blake Steele
