On my front porch stoop, I sit
cold February day, but sun-lit
Petting Goldie, my feral cat
she’s behaving strangely, I can sense that
Lady, can’t you see?
she urges me
Below the stoop to the left, I glance
to view a dead opossum, by chance
Innards half eaten, and frozen stiff
a raccoon, or a coyote, I wonder if
His spirit still there?
does he sense that I care?
I fetch the shovel to carry away
the petrified corpse, now free from affray
Far behind the house I choose the plot
frozen leaves and branches, I clear a slot
I make a blanket with sticks and dried leaves
to cover his corpse that no longer grieves
Now you are free from the body cage-jail
I honor my dead friend with the prehensile tail
It has been such an interesting week. I have had so many synchronistic occurrences, and I’m noticing more and more how every single thought manifests itself through form (a body). I recognize more deeply how Father Time veils our wisdom, hiding the reality that it’s actually all occurring simultaneously. I think I’m learning something new, but it’s actually what I know already. Thankfully, my dream time opens up my mind again, at least while I’m in deep sleep. But damn, that illusive “time” covers it over with ignorance when my morning alarm goes off.
It has become obvious to me the meaninglessness of the labels we get stuck to. But they’re sooooo energetically sticky, like Superglue.
We get stuck to the label, and then BELIEVE IN the label, and the mind closes up!
None of it is true. We don’t even know what consciousness IS.