The fierce quality awakens. Is it merely a matter of waking up on the wrong side of the bed? Or have I awakened with the sword in hand? Fire is blazing. Come close. Join the bonfire. Surrender your head. Surrender your hope. Come rest on this burning bosom and I will rock you awake.
I stand sword in hand. A sly smile. I know you Mother. This pregnant space where all has already been done. Where the form has not manifested yet, but it is all dead by the time it has been born. The form merely a shadow, an echo, a reverberation that will manifest long after the fact. We dance in this charnal ground, stamping on the samsara of false goodness. We howl the stratum of time. We touch the causeless joy. Hopeless.
Come close, my precious.
(For part one, visit here)
painting: Kailash Raj