The Infinite Nature of You - Part 3

         

These poems by UIL member John Brooks were incorporated into the Aptil 29, 2018 service titled “The Infinite Nature of You”.

 

* * *

Fish or bird,

two-legged or four,

we are all flying

                             through space,

swimming in the Divine Mind

together

 

AWAKENING TO AWAKENING

There are stories.

Stories about where you are

and where you aren’t.

When you believe them they live in you

          and you in them.

The enlightenment story says

          some people are awake

          while others sleepwalk through life.

Choose to live in this story and you also choose

          your role in it.

One sunny day, I sat at the water’s edge.

Waves rolled patiently toward me,

          arriving in holy whispers, kissing the shore.

A Kiss, from anyone, is all it takes

          to dissolve a story,

          and reveal the living moment

          beyond all believing.

 

* * *

Slow down

Let

These words

Drop

And seep

Into

Your every pore

Like a heavy dew.

Each syllable

Is

A holy sound,

Another name

For the

Only One.

 

* * *

For you

Have I

Prepared a room

Where you may come

To know peace and

Awaken to your ultimate fulfillment.

The door to this room

Is tight, so tight

That you must leave outside

The parcels you carry

Of your past

And expectations for today

And tomorrow

And even your clothes.

You must enter naked

And I will clothe you

In light.

 

***

From this well

With no bottom,

Drink without limit!

Discard your little dipper –

Dive in!

 

BE THAT FREE

Throw off the shackles of propriety

And answer the call of your spirit.

Harm no one,

But neither cross thread your doings

With your highest purpose.

The wind knows no restraint:

Be that free!

And all the trees and grasses will bend

Before you.

 

THE TRADITION

I am the tradition

that is no tradition.

Because I have no form

I am unrecognizable.

With no dogma,

I am irrefutable.

 

I am as old as the first glimmer

of understanding

in a human eye.

I am as old as the first stride

of the first disciple,

lock-step behind the Teacher.

You may call me Master,

Messenger, Reverend Mother

Zenji, Ma, Elder Brother, or

by no name at all.

All that matters is the glimmer in your eye,

the ache in your precious heart,

and the whispers of feet

falling on the pathless path.

 

THE LAST STORY

Save one, every song

of joy has been sung.

Save one, every cry of pain

has been uttered.

Save one, the story of every soul’s journey

has been told.

 

The world can wait no longer!

Sing your joy,

cry your pain.

And that story?  It is living you!

 

Shh!  Listen to it,

and let your living

be the story teller.

 

The story of your life is like a river,

held back for too long.

Open the spillway – better yet,

dynamite the dam –

and let your rudderless raft

find its own current.

 

Then the rippling water

will accompany your song,

the wind will echo your cries,

and the last and only story

of the merging river will be told

by the salty sea.