We are the angels we were waiting for.
We were all seeing it. Moving into the light. The White Light. Our future and our freedom. Then the day came when the bomb was dropped and we knew it was all over.
We were moving into Fluidity. It had been coming for a while. We were experienced at losing form. It was a new skill that had been taught to us by the ancients and the elders and all those who came before us. Nothing new to it, really.
We could dissolve time and split space within our physical bodies. It was a tearing open and a tearing apart. Like melting snowflakes. Trillions of tiny crystals breaking down and shifting. Icicles, particles, tears and fears. That's what we boiled down to.
Worlds were moving in and out of themselves, Twisting and churning into cosmic butter and silky smooth slides in deep space. We called them black holes and negative landscape. Except we took it to mean in a bad way when really it was referring to becoming so fully charged you entirely lose your self. And with that you wake up and are delivered back into the warm bosom of the infinite whole once again. Forever. Abstract. A thought. A stream of consciousness. The drop in the ocean. One small, short beautiful cycle of breath. We were teasing ourselves and pulling back. The time, we knew, it would come.
Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms,
not in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs
winding around your own neck,
nor in eating nothing but vegetables
When you really look for me, you will see me instantly -
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.
translated by Robert Bly
"Risking Everything: 110 Poems of Love and Revelation"
edited by Roger Housden