If you tasted what we tasted you’ll know why we want you to taste it. Why any time untasted, is time wasted. -W.E.
Being trapped in the madness of love, we want to drag you in with us. This is not selfish, this is utter generosity. Taste this insanity, Taste this living, Taste it and be with Us and without you. Lick the soles of our experiences and flutter into the heart of divinity. We have travelled, we have arrived and we have departed. Our departure is dedication to the way. But this separation is a pang we need not endure, Can’t you see how devoted we are to sharing the taste with you? Come then, waste not time, Awaiting for us, is He, sublime, Love’s Divine. -W.E.
Love me like a semicolon; End me so I can go on. -W.E.
I’m not asking for much, Reduce ‘me’ to rubble, Tread on ‘me’ with imprint of boots, Sledgehammer ‘me’ until I shatter to shards, Trample ‘me’ with a herd of bulldozers, Destroy ‘me’ until ‘I’ cease to exists, Then in ‘You’, what’s left is true,
And will live on in bliss.
The price to pay for loving the divine Is to all humanity, becoming blind The currency; loss of mind -W.E.
Part payment is not enough
In the end, you get what you pay for, Give more, if you want more. If you’re not willing, hard to fall, Don’t complain if your lot is small.
The whole of you, you’ll have to sacrifice,
Paradise, has a steep price.
There is no reconciliation to the middle, If you wish to bathe in diviny’s riddle. Off to the perimeters of the extremes you will find, Naught left breathing, obliterated minds. You must discriminate and leave conformity, Therein are the meadows of pleasure enormity. So walk in the fire of blue flames flashes, Burn to a crisp; let them inhale your ashes.
What a liar the man is that holds society hostage with his words that he shrouds in the robes of the faith.
He covers only the grotesqueness of his emptiness. The interior of his robes, filled with hot air as though the vacuum ready for ballooning flight of grandeur that looks down upon his fellow man.
He dares stand aloft proclaiming he is made and found, he is accomplished and saved, he is correct and undeniable, he is righteous and faithful. He has no doubts and he holds all the truth.
Turn away. They are hucksters, empty as described, hollow without any substance, not even the air to survive.
They are not men (or women) of faith. Faith requires you have a prerequisite doubt. It is the doubt that keeps you searching, yearning, enquiring, and longing to find and to be found.
It is doubt that will have you between the state of fear and hope, fear you may be astray, never sure of your outcome, therefore constantly in battle with your ego, setting it straight and hope that your efforts are recognised, but hope cannot be present without it’s sister doubt. For if one is sure, they don’t hope, if one has no doubts they are already over the line of certainty.
The realm of faith has been hijacked by all dogmatic extremists in all faiths. Men and women who are full of complex and compound ignorance that feeds on itself.
They stand brashly proclaiming all answers are present in their hearts and minds and hold the rest of humanity to account. This is the way an extremist justifies killing people, whether he be a suicide bomber in Iraq, a Kamikaze fighter pilot, an abortion clinic bomber, a burmese monk burning men and women in the street, a school yard shooter or an Israeli settler gunning down a child. There is no difference between them all. They are all guilty of the same thing, stubborn and arrogant assuredness.
They are not doubtful.
The are not faithful.
This is a short talk, give yourself the time and sit down to watch it. Be patient and hear this wonderful woman who is an Agnostic Jew speak about this very issue entwined into her wonderful talk about a man so little people ACTUALLY know something about other than what they are fed through the dry and wretched vines of the media.
Even though this elixir series is only being penned now, I believe the stew was warming from a long time ago.
About thirteen years ago, after studying the habits of many masters, sages and gnostics, I noticed that they had one thing in common.
So I penned this as my signature in my online banter as a reflection of who/what I wanted to emulate:
True Realisation Is In Annihilation
She keeps them waiting, distils her thoughts. Like she was extracting a pheromone. An apt metaphor for the lure she commands.
One line of hers and your eyes are burned, your mind obliterated and your soul evaporated.
She bends words and supine’s them with an archers accuracy. Her aim is beyond the physical eyes perspective, heart and soul are still units of measure. She aims at the ethereal, she aims at nothingness, stillness, silence; the vastness of eternal suffering that shrouds joy.
Her scope is fixated there and all we can do is wait with abated breath for her arrow to find home. When it does, everyone will reach realisation, everyone will reach annihilation.