Passage Of Life; Grief Of The Migrators Poem by Jonathan Hickery

Loss,
New wounds,
Cold running water cleaning,
Time's passage slow,
I hope (not) to heal soon,
Alone I am,
Yet family then insight say otherwise,
All suffer this way,
Who circle within these worlds,
Why do we have to part in such a way?
I try not to grasp,
Hoping to dissolve this concept of me,
On waking; so alone,
In contemplation; One in all and,
All in one,

Causes and Conditions,
The earth warms as the Earth turns amongst the stars,
Flowers unfurl; insects stirring,
White clouds obscure the perfect sky lost in day's becoming,
Sun down and moonrise,
A dark sigh of pearlescent light,
Slants through window and pools on night's floor,
Now what colour was that garden bloom, the tree, my familiar room?
Red is silver and blue seems white,
I have to decide which is the illusion and which is right,
This world's life dreams by,
As this actor trudges the old path,
Make silent steps,
Try not to stumble.

Be still and know the Thatness within,
experience the eternal Now,
Pierce the world that seems so solid and so permanent,
See but the fleeting dancing forms of potentials interacting with mind,
Nothing created new; nothing destroyed,
But ever changing,
All Interconnected!
Manifested by mind from emptiness.
Look to the gaps between these words,
You may glimpse a great vista,
Awesome and yet homely,
A vision of us as we truly are,
We are The Fallen slaves to self,
Encased in the shells of ego; circling circling,
Wake Up and break out I say,
With unbounded love and compassion for all,
Make your way home,
It is there within,
And always has been,
Unsullied by all that has ever happened.