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Book: Dark Poetry: divinity, manifestations, incarnation, immanence, God: mystical Christian prose poems
A book excerpt from the spiritandflesh.com religion and spirituality online library.
Perhaps neither subject nor object exists, but only the experience; 'experience' does not conclude an experiencer, nor an experienced event, it concludes only experience. Thus perhaps there are no 'things', only 'experience' which produces the experience of things. Nor is there presence, only the experience which produces the presence. One does not have 'experience', but in fact the other way around; the experience is independent of the subject, but not the subject the experience; experience produces the self, but not the self the experience. 'Experience' produces the experience of that which is 'experienced' and of the 'experiencer'. Though nothing but 'experience' 'is'. We try to invent an existence, an experiencer, out of experience, because we know that there 'is' something, but if that something is not-something, what is it?
We seek ourselves without, we seek ourselves within. And yet naught but a wily serpent could writhe upon this earth, and from that writhing ...move in a direction.
What occurs, what manifests, first goes through consciousness before it occurs; 'what is' goes through us, before it becomes what 'is'; without us, this would not be. Time is consciousness forgetting that it has perceived occurrence already‑ before it occurred; occurrence is that which has been‑ it is the memory of what consciousness has forgotten. 'What is' is old by the time it becomes the newness called 'is'. Manifestation is consciousness requiring the reminder called occurrence in order to acknowledge what it already knows. If one perceives the manifest before it manifests, one need not perceive the manifest. From prescience to presence; life is an outcome- it comes out. 'What is' 'has been', though not in the form which it is. 'What is' is the last ditch effort of 'what need not have been'.
And yet, sound conceals the silence, but does not negate it. And where the parasite is found, there also the host will be.
Like dysentery-causing amoebas, swallowed from the cold waters of a mountain stream, and then purged through the digestive system by heroic gulps of strong rum consumed by that wise, old, drunken mountain man, do we glide euphoric and high out of God's anus, with tales of our dark and mystic journey through the bowels of being, a sojourn which we again long to undertake, but there is no way back except to give ourselves again to the stream, and hope to one day again slake the thirst of our bitter host, home, and devourer.
We are eternally in God like a blindfolded man in a straight‑jacket, who struggles and fights but cannot free himself. Yet he assumes there is other than darkness.
The wave is not independent of the water, though the water is independent of the wave.
The sun is more an oak than the acorn: independent of each other, the sun alone retains potential. The blinded acorn perishes.
"Would the real god please stand up."
When this ultimatum is announced, man does indeed conspicuously stand up, but not until God first has stood; man hesitates nervously, and then, when God becomes obvious, man leaps up demanding that he instead is God. And so God returns to his seat, leaving man to stand alone in an empty auditorium with denial as his only witness. Then God sits again awkwardly inside a man, confused that perhaps all along he was not what he thought he was.
Angels know nothing of the angelic. The wizard cannot explain the wand. The child of God knows nothing of God, has never heard of God, says nothing of God, and can think of nothing that is not God.
(excerpted from THE DREAM OF BEING: aphorisms, ideograms, and aislings, by Jack Haas)
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