featured poet — miriam louisa simons

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miriam louisa simons currently resides in and blesses the shores of Australia's New South Wales. To read additional poetry, essays, and musings by miriam louisa simons, visit her exquisite blogs at www.thisunlitlight.com and www.theawakenedeye.com.  To see her artwork and find out more about her artistic process, visit her website at www.wonderingmindstudio.com, or enjoy her art as ONE's Spring 2013 featured artist by clicking here.

See also her essay: "On Labyrinths, Grace and the Via Creativa," in the Spring 2013 issue of ONE.

 

   this sacred intimacy

I am

nothing I can

conceive

nothing I can

imagine

nothing I can

remember

nothing I can

know

nothing I can

feel

nothing I can

perceive

 

yet my Presence

makes every

perception

and every movement of

thought and feeling

p o s s i b l e

 

I am

the Beloved I sought;

there was no

attainment to be had, no

condition to be met, no

return to be made

 

nothing, nothing

could be more sweetly simple

than this sacred intimacy

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prajñāpāramitā

always at home
in this inescapable
bright unlit luminescence

this crucible of Creation:
Mother of time and space;
vast unknowable knowingness

always at rest
in this ultimate abode;
unassailable, yet ever available

prior to the mind
container of consciousness -
beyond the concept of beyond

always at home, always at rest
always already
p e r f e c t

 

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come sit with me

I have plumped up a cushion for you.

There's a box beside the door -
you can leave your mind there
(no charge)

Rest in this silent place
allowing succulent stillness
to fill your tired bones.

Stay.

Stay until you hear
the whisper of your heart's wisdom:

"This unfathomable peace – it is your own
blessed beingness!"

Stay. Please stay!

And when you go
you will know a secret
that can never again be un-known.

Beloved, you are the love of your life.

 

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beloved Beloved

How can You be so evident
and yet
completely missed
as we search for You
insatiably?

How can You be so simple
and at the same time
so subtle
that overlooking You
takes priority?

How can You be so clear
and nakedly
present
yet only be referred to
in riddles?

How can You be so Total
so inescapably
everything
and yet
be nothing knowable
or namable?

 

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this awareness is not aware that it is aware

To say that "awareness is aware of itself"
is to split it into two:
one bit as the viewer
and the other as the view.

But is this really so?
(Not according to any teaching
or dogma or philosophy; no,
save me from second-hand 'truths'!)
What's the experience right here,
beyond the cunning concepts
that inevitably appear?

Awareness awares.
That's all that I can say;
its ceaseless unlit light
both creates and acts its play.

Even emptiness is empty
and mind a four-letter word;
my gut rips wide open
as I fall on my sword.

Just this! I cry -

yet instantly it's clear
that thusness is a step too far
from the lucid living light
that's plainly shining

h e r e

 

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once you know

Once you know
and you know that you know
that you are unknowable
Knowingness
and you fall headlong
into that wideawake wonderment
taking ITs name
as your own
at last,
at last,
IT takes over

IT creates a new order
in the apparition
called body

and the energy mandala
called mind.

IT choreographs the dance:
the giving,
the emptying,
the cleansing
of the field
and
the opening and ordering
of a new life
mandala
ceaselessly forming and
re-forming and
alive
with energy,
shimmering
with Light,
and you find your place
as ITs centre
knowing
you are home at last

 

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it’s totally beyond me…

Sitting this morning at summer’s window
wondering
what quirk of destiny’s unfolding
led
to the conviction of separation in
a human mind

How is it possible to so thoroughly
believe
in something (a solid independent ‘me’)
that has never been able to be proven
to exist?

How is it possible to turn this
phantom
into a seeker who desperately
desires
to be free of itself and its stories? (huh?)

How is it possible to
avoid
the in-your-face obvious and
inescapable
truth
that the present presents with
every nano-second of aliveness?

How could anything so
simple
available
uncomplicated
and unavoidable
turn into a mystery, a concept
that would fuel galaxies of
religious and philosophical
thought-worlds?

It’s totally beyond me…

(literally and figuratively)

But it’s bloody marvelous all the same.

 

pearl_cutout

 

I drink this divine deliciousness

I have had a fatal fall.
Toppled out of the basket-case
of the old life.
Legless. Upturned. Decked.

I landed here in this deathless Lightfield -
a body-Being sinking
sensuously
into a silken over-stuffed armchair
its arms holding, enfolding
its pillows sighing perfumed whispers:
"You are loved!"

And I drink this divine
deliciousness
the nectar of Knowing that I never have to leave,
never!

 But of course I will, apparently.
'I' has games to play
people to pretend to be
toys to create
laughter and tears and love to share …

And the silken pillows on which 'I' dreams
are always always there -
less than a body-beat away.

 

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I know that I know

floating, arms outstretched,
rolling like the playful whales
that so love this benign bay
turning down, head-first, diving,
sweeping the sandy bottoms,
rising again, breaking free into
sparkling sunlight
then doing it all again and again
delighting
in these balmy waters
called the Coral Sea

and I ask myself:
what is it that never gets wet?
what is it that never moves a muscle?
what is it that is aware-ing all this
delight?

and I know that I know,
have known It always,
have never been apart from It

and this is the greatest
delight
of all

 

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this crazy love

shimmering stardust

arching

over rippling moonpath

frangipanis afloat

like Peking knots on

silken blackwater

my mother's ashes

scattered

over the tide-turn

of the Coral Sea

this crazy love

- sleeves wringing wet -

clutches

its only firm footfall

on this time-sucking sand:

this unchanging

luminous

Awareing

 

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© miriam louisa simons

background painting by miriam louisa simons: www.wonderingmindstudio.com

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