FREEDOM FROM DISEASE

O, Radiant Light...

Blessed is he that strengthens his body, O, Lord...
With your spirit and presence in his heart...
Made by your hand Dear Lord, from dust...
May we remember our immortal nature...
This thing we call disease is but our own creation...
The thought of sickness exist only in our mind...
It is only our heart that has plagues of pain...
Guide us, O, blissful splendour...
Help us back toward our eternal form...
Remind us of our imperishable seat, O, Lord...
Our faith in this seat makes us whole...
Rising from the earth to the light...
May all your splendid forms free us...
May all your forms dormant in us come alive...
May we never force them to sleep again...
O, Lord make our foreheads adamant again...
For, no hand heals better than your own...
May we know only your remedies my Lord...
Tis in our heart where all tools lay...
Thank you Lord...


doM

BEYOND DESCRIPTION

O, Lord...

Worthy is he that knows your true form...
Worthy is he that knows you through himself...
For you, O, God, are beyond a belief...
You, O, Lord, are beyond name and symbol...
For all has proceedeth out of you...
How dare we limit your formlessness...
How dare we claim to know a thing of you...
Words cannot contain even a drop...
Our songs are but a cry to you, O, Lord...
We know nothing outside this ignorance...
We are like babes craving the womb again...
O, God may we move harmoniously at least...
May we never force a thing to know you...
May we never build a temple or church...
May we never build a mosque or ashram...
May we never build a place outside of ourselves...
For you have dwelled in us from the begining...
No feat of man can reveal you...
May we go into our hearts and take refuge...


doM

GITA

God sings...
But the sound proceedeth out of you...
From your voice box...
From the work of your hand and foot...
And in these songs...
The Holy One teaches, shares and reminds...
Of many actions, of many deeds...
Only of those forgotten...
For all are fit for that immortal nature...
But not before the illusions are balanced...
Not before the gaze is fixed...
Not before the seat exists...
Not before the thought is renounced...
Not until the sword is taken to the battlefield...
Not until the warrior enters the chariot...
Crossing through death and destruction...
Seeking only to drink the nectar of his heart...
It has always been there...
It will always be there...
It will never leave or abandon him...
And upon taking refuge there...
His fears and doubts are sacrificed for a boon...
That he may dwell in the house of the Lord forever...
That he may disseminate his sermon to all...
Those that will see and hear...
Tis said that the pure of heart are blessed...
And as sight of God's terrible form is granted...
Salvation is granted...
And with nothing to fear...
The Son of God accepts pain of all man...
And to man...
That Supreme Knowledge is bequested...
The greatest of all gifts...
We meditate upon that Light...


doM

SKULL SHINER

Body fully purified...
Calcium illuminates the skull bone...
As for the channels...
Beyond technological control...
The long nail digs the eye out...
Blood rushing out of the head...
The great sage...
Knower of that knowledge...
He drinks steadily...
Emitting the silent primordial vibration...
No station is available to those without a source...
Electricity from the dam is inferior...
A fallacy of sorts...
One musn't believe a thing...
The heart only beats upon observation...
Vacations are for those that know the good...
Yet they do it not...
For the Shiner...
He vacates not even from sin...
Playing in the cemetary from the days as a child...
He knew the format...
Layer upon layer...
He recalled the music from the program...
A brain that mirrors itself...
It prepared itself for itself...
And abandoning the disorder of mind...
His liberation and protection expanded...
Fully uncoiled...
He seeks only to speak to the deaf...


doM

PURIFICATION

By the thought of it...
By the utterance of those words...
The ground and the utterer...
He shall taste it...
Turning his face towards the light...
With Grace...
He shall be saved by it...
Made fit...
He shall be washed of filth...
Mold groweth not on his bread...
Holding the power of the immortal throat...
No poison shall hold him...
Transmute it he shall into Nectar of Life...
Strife is for the fool...
Pain is for those with the skin of man...
In oneness with the Doer...
The vein holdeth not one pint...
Through Sun-filled nourishment...
No dam shall hold thee...
No man can scold thee...
No knowledge shall bind he...
He that is free and blinds himself...
But only to the ways of man...
The hot sand shall invigorate the bare foot...
And carrying no fire...
He shall purify himself at the Altar...
Inside of the Temple...
And as the Living Word...
His flesh shall cleanse even the stained glass...
And in one breath...
The Work is done, un-done and Done...


doM