Below beneath

April 2017

Sometimes it doesn't matter
What is meant
For what you receive is
What you needed to hear
But that looses its charm
Quite rapidly
For truth is anything but
One dimensional
And to doubt the spirit
Behind the words is just a
skeptical hurtful resistance
To the hidden.
Recognition is not to be
Nor empathy or curiosity
For there we strengthen
The bond between us
And can revisit
Any time hence.

I remember that
although we talked
Mort and I
About thoughts above
And about our life
I can't remember single thing
We said.
Below and within
A friendship blossomed.
And when I returned to
poems from back then
I knew he knew the me that
First faced the void
And wrote my words from
The wellspring of whispers.
And so it was Mort I called for
When I was remembering myself.
For any continuity or connection
Afforded by the anchor of
Intuitive recognition
Could only serve to support
Integration and understanding
Of the spiritual dimensions
I knew but had forgotten.

I often wonder now what
It looks like
The web of connections
Made like neurotransmitters
But not
Both beyond you as well as within
Across time and space
Where the connection is lasting.
A connection forged
by the meeting
Which can never be undone
However many times
Rewritten and revised.
What was
In the timeless place
Where who we are
Knows no death
But only continuation.
(Perhaps that's how we live
On in the heart
A haunting
Once we pass.)
A person has an
Energetic signature
A body of spirit
Which cannot be
Deleted from the world
There is a trace
Always, in the material
We touched.
Reaching the heights
Of becoming
We may realise an
Evolution beyond others
But are always there
And so
For all these reasons
Cultivation of movement
And perception
Creativity and agency
Within the realm of spirit
And through the dreamtime
Serves the being not
Just to realise
But to share in
The life and living
That persists in all the worlds...

Poetry by Maija Liepins
Read 118 times
Written on 2017-07-27 at 22:15

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