World without end

It is true of every human that the thing which seems the weakest, that thing which draws a human experience toward the source,like a moth to the light, is actually the strongest.That thing which may be called a hidden desire,an unfulfillment, is so strong and its presence is always felt no matter how faint,though we sometimes go left or right and up and down or stand still, eventually we find the same light and even though we may get burned and even materially destroyed, we fulfil our destiny of servitude and experience which is the fulfillment of the law.The fulfillment of the law, though it may need numerous attempts will always eventually lead to recognition of the expression of source like a droplets of water fulfilling that which is called wave. So too that which is our destiny will realise its connection with life and we will understand that even mans concept of time and space,desire and fulfillment are merely concepts expressed by that which cannot entertain anything of a greater magnitude.

This seemingly hidden desire will shed the clothes of disguise through that which is referred to as experience and be seen once again, as it was in the beginning and ever shall be, world without end.∞

A video version of this fragment can be found here

Credit: writing © Justme; Image © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved

The greatest treasure

Seek not the farther good, seek not that which seems beyond the pale, but rather look for your joy within your brothers heart, for it is in the heart of your neighbour lies the greatest treasure. It is in the laughter of your chat and the babble of your children, in the rush of the morning and at the busy breakfast table you shall find your joy

and he continued:

many have sought in the clouds or sought peace in another, but few have entered the silent place, few have understood they cannot see because the universe has chose it so, let you not be like them, let you when you hear the words – this is wrong, this is right, let you know that every right and every wrong is but only wrong or right for you. 

When confusion lifts her bedraggled head let your heart and mind and soul cry out, I dont know! Then the universe shall lift you and holding you close and gently stroking your head it shall rock you to sleep, and you will wish to know no more.

Credit: writing © justme; Image@ CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved

Yet to my silent tune

  “Yet to my silent tune the clouds they move, they cry they dance.”

This quote is part of the poem-prayer ” the dream of life” by justme.

Credits: poem© justme; Image © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved

The moon

by justme

As ancients seen, so do I
A throbbing light, a painted globe
Upon a pinpricked sparkled sky
Suspended in the nothingness of black.
Always there, poetic universal rhyme
Dangling upon an invisible track
Of timeNo man has more monument or shrine
Still, you do not speak, or smirk, for thine,
calmly, gently, slip thy turn
Though you speed at thousands
No mass thou burn.
To me.So say man, so say the stumbling blinded child
From ancient Babylonia and Sinn, the wild
Danu, Rig Veda, all true. And the snaking Danube.
Why oh moon, do they all honour you?Yet still, you do not speak.

Should man hold tongue and learn your ways?
Of course you see the madness, of the groping human days.
I have never seen your sadness.
Though I felt my own,
in so many different ways.

Lunatic you said, lunatic he made.
King Lycaeon loves to hate you, too.
Your full of awe and moving, magical mystique
Still I watch, yet still great moon,
you do not speak

Oh to have your silence, to thunder your roar
Of watched human woes
Yet to dance as you dance,
with arrogance of one who knows.

Yet from here, you look so small
I could grab you and squash you in my palm
With no difficulty at all.
And yet,
You never look like you will ever fall.

I love you.
Yet I do not know you.
Yet you have watched us all.
The Good, the bad, the humble, the weak.
Yet sweet moon,
You never speak,
at all.

Credits: Poem © just me; Image © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved


by justme

Space is that in-between, you cannot grasp
Silence is like space, spirit also
Nothing fills the space, or blocks it neither
Spirit is like space. Space it overflows and yet
Be filled, or emptied.
Spirit is as space.

You cannot paint the space
Though you thought you did.
Or a trillion men paint with brush at hand
You cannot colour.
The spirit neither

Space is the holder of everything
Of all that has gone and all to come
Space has no inside and yet everything is held within
No outside, yet incorporates everything without and more,
And less.
And much and nothing.
Spirit too is the holder of everything
All to come and is here and gone, before.

You are held within the space, and more
You are spirit, and you are space
Minute, yet huge, unseen, undisturbed, ageless
like spirit, like space, like now.

Credits: Poem: © justme; Image: © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved