Tuesday, April 19, 2011

None of This is It. {127.}

None of This is It. {127.}


There’s something fractured and dissatisfactory
about life that is frustrating.

The best of experiences still lack
that certain something real, desired, meaningful.

Human language proves utterly inadequate
if one aspires to describe
the most sublime of experiences;
expression remains denied to me.

I cannot help constantly feeling
it’s on the other side;
call it God, reality, truth,
bliss, completeness, eternity, salvation, paradise.

Beyond the threshold of life,
across the embrace of death,
perhaps awaits my Supreme Parent,
I strive with that trust,
longing to transcendentally leap across.

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