The Fool & the White Dog

The Fool is All, in  Abstraction  
InDistinct
All potential, No action
Imaginal Dancer
Within the Fractal

The White Dog Is, All Instinction
All Distinct,
Fully Present, on the brink
Here and Now
Cosmic Wink
Soma Playing Hide and Seek

…the Particle and Wave
…Point and Line
Sacred Companions
Traveling thru Time

….a Dog chasing its Tail

or

a God chasing its Tale…..

It’s a Sine….

And It’s All Light ….

And

EveryThing Matters

Right?

Left here, in the circle

In the loop

Twisting tendrils

Into Truth

Age and Youth

Playing games of I~s and You~s

The Fool smiles wide
At the side of the cliff
The White Dog nips
At the heels of Bliss

The Mind becomes Moment
The Sphere becomes Flat
It’s Plane to See
In the Arms of Maat

The Fool steps over
the Great DiVide
Holds her Breath
Opens her I

The White Dog winks
In FreeFall
The Bliss of the Abyss
is the best Gift of All

a Dog chasing its Tail

or

a God chasing its Tale…..

It’s a Sine….

And It’s All Light ….

And

EveryThing Matters

Right?

Follow your Nose
Or follow your Knows
Follow the Gnosis
Wherever It goes

In and out and up and down
Over and under the merry-go-round

The Dice Game of Shiva
The Jesters Playground
The tapestry of Time
is where It is Found

The Tale we tell of the El and the Mag
The Tail of the Dog eternally wags
The God in the Tale that twists the Rhyme
Is the God in the Self of You and I
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CLJ 8-28-26

The mind points out it’s own precision

The mind points out it’s own precision 
The pen tip presses upon the page
The blank sheets are washed and dried
as bleeding crimes in tangled lines
Are hung to dry with dripping rage

The mind draws lines with its own decisions
The desperate drama of dreams debate
The Carpet rolls out the curtains rise
The Callosum opens its Myelin eyes
As actors weave axioms upon the stage

The mind circles round its own confusion
The neural nodes nap within the cage
The fasciculus finds and hooks the hive
The fissure formed from space and time
Is stitched to heal with macrophage….

….the ritual bell, the wafting smell of
Burning sages in prizm cells,
Hanging from the dangling nous,
The heart bares scars from tearing youth
From the of searing truth of heaven and hell…

~Charleen Johnston 7-18-24