The beauty of Consciousness is that even though made in 2009 and my only just seeing it, previous blog posts all seem to have led me to it, but then again, how could it be otherwise 😉
You have created all angels
to bow down and worship Your creation
through and in me;
You created me
to stand and worship You.
The mastery of any field is arrived at by the exercising of power through experimentation. The Master of the Unified Field arrives similarly and practically despite theories that predict the existence or otherwise of the Unified Field.
Creation is perfect now.
To approach any existential appearance that seems problematic without the courtesy of extending perfection to the Singularity first, renders any such approach tainted.
Per facio, through doing or making, is the Latin rootage of perfect. “Every day God is about a business”, is resourced from Islam and describes a Universal doing that is creation. “If it’s not practical it’s not spiritual”, is resourced from the discourse of the 12 Step recovery texts of the Narcotics Anonymous programme.
So there is a deep redemptive practicality about prayer and meditation. Spiritual principles of creativity make the Universe appear from the 90% Unseen that mystics call The Beloved and physicists describe as Dark Matter.
Practical solutions to any visible problem are waiting to gush forth from the Invisible when the place has been fully prepared for their reception.
That preparation is essentially one of clarifying the actual problem.
The problem facing cultural leaders presently is one of diction, their words are broken. The repair of words is a job for The Word, The Logos.
When you’re ready then …. diction resolution.
The delicate work of Muse rendition
When that word
Rendition
Has been usurped by the torture business
Is as difficult now
As it has always been.
Making the invisible, visible.
Being true.
Sentenced by words that are
Love’s sentience.
She says write …. I write
The double You rite that is poetry
Where there is no double You.
“I am who am”, a Master said
Modulated in poetry that somehow spawned
A See
now blinded by the Tantric fury
of burgeoning misunderstanding.
The poet priest returns
Knocking at the locked doors
of a heart forever open.
Letters dance through the light,
Ducts of love that join periodically
tabling the valent cauldron of
The prevalent.
©AJDettman 31/8/13