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Rated: E · Fiction · Cultural · #2159426
In septimo caelo

A mere snort of whitish, sparkling powder,
Channeled me up into this bright worm hole,
Which sucks me up into its roaring thunder,
Tumbling me senseless in its buzzing roll.

Bereft my spirit of all sound and fury,
I watch myself expand out in the distance
Of hyperspace; I'm channeled hurry-scurry,
Into unknown dimensions of existence.

The mute awareness of the nameless way,
Of vacant emptiness' stupendous space,
Where life, a faded picture floats away,
On shoreless gulfs, no memories, no trace.

An opal mirror lake of quiet splendor.
Whose bounds extend afar out of my sight,
Shines its azure lustrous morning candor,
Back to the dome of alabaster light.

The silent air is crispy-cool and fragrant.
No breeze is moving o’er the fallow fields.
I'm floating, mindless, aimless, hobo vagrant,
Amidst the willows and along the reeds.

Quivering ego shines on mirror waters,
Transmogrified into eternal bliss.
The mirage of the senses no more matters,
Within the shapeless, infinite abyss.

Out of the realm bursts out a lotus flower,
A streaming source of life-endowing prana,
Surrender to its gentle healing power,
And everything resolves into Nirvana!

NIRVANA: Ohne Wehen des Windes. Mobile, April 28, 2012

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