The Mirage of Separation

There was life
 can I live with the question
 the great understanding
 time is not
 you say the journey needs time
 we're invited to sit at the king's table
 on hearing the fish in the water
 the sunlight cannot penetrate through
 to see the orchid 
 Proprietor: Can I help you?
 the ego seems to take on
 the little I that has taken 
 what you really desire is me
 desire is a black hole
 when you've gone to the 
 bring back your centre of gravity
 why do we impose
 when you take yourself
 when you use the word I
 pure subjectivity 
 form is an expression of the formless. After eliminating each layer in the Self
 the scent of the rose 
 meditation
 there is not
 volition is the devil 
 your compassion for the world is admirable
 fighting the ego is a great battle
 the ego is as sticky as glue
 the winds of thought
 not the faintest whiff of objectivity
 There was once a fish called Agonda
 There was once a king called Alexi, who on 
 you know the world around you
 it is ignorance to know
 the tree you can touch
 don't try to be aware
 it's before you see
 the concept is an abstraction
 the ego is a prison
 the ego is like the devil
 the sky is deep blue. The sun shinesdon't stoke up the fire 
 that whole tale of a me 
 eternity is in this moment
 discover what is not born
 why not stand aside
 if you know whilst dreaming
 don't wait to become perfect
 why this waiting
 love's look is indiscriminate 
 this one sees and hears only itself
 at the moment of death
 there is no security in a me
 here is the invitation 
 death, go deep within
 there is no path to take you
 sit in the Self
 gold is shaped into many ornaments
 when you are one of the branches of the tree
 you cannot become other than you are
 that which is nameless and formless. In the direct approachfor the divine to enter
 People spend a lifetime trying to control the mind, but to what purpose? The controller with its agenda of controlling only reinforces the centre, the I-image, that which it is trying to free itself from.
 there are many techniques
 I keep myself veiled 
 I'm there between each breath
 don't take the in-breath
 though it's remarkably close
 sweep out the last dust of volition 
 there comes a time
 karma is for him who
 remove everything 
 in the midst of a chaotic world
 what is there before the thought
 oceans
 no hold. Forest fires cannot burn itthe temple of nothingness
 when we reach the end of our lives
 all that is acquired 
 what is this me
 not a journey for the faint-hearted
 it is this, here, now
 have you noticed
 when there is a glimpse 
 in the moment there is no space
 the dark muddy river
 the greatest joy is to be
 silence, stillness
 nothing has ever been held back
 after a lifetime 
 knowledge brings innocence 
 it is born and then dies
 who am I
 here, if there can be a here
 be detached from the world
 stack the funeral pyre high
 joy needs no cause or excuse.