Second Star to the Right
Traveling beyond Persephone's garden
on the etheric threshold
'tween life and death.
Taking an oblique path at the crossroads
onto an accessway
along the axis of bliss.
It's not a road on which
the dramas fade.
It's not about a numbing block
to pain.
Drama unfolds --
my chemistry responds exquisitely.
Touch is just touch;
sensation merely information.
All the appointed tasks,
routine errands of the everyday,
little pauses along the bliss path
allowing me to breathe the scent
of endless possibilities
as path and consciousness expand
blissfully aware.
(c) March 1, 2007 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
People seem to be threatened by the idea of bliss, trying to corral the ineffable with definitions.
How can I put words around without restricting open-ended bliss?
Have they no faith in their loving Creator?
Have I no faith in my co-creating higher Muse?
The suffering, disappointments, traumas, desolation -- these are not the gifts of deities
demanding or displeased. These are natural consequences of forces set in motion
impervious to prayer, blind to persons, unaware of our individual sad stories.
Meaningless happenstance we give greater power by attributions of guilt, blame,
bitter condemnation.
Take a little turn, I tell me, into a new truer dimension to perception.
Bliss is the source condition that surrounds us, is the essence of,
all that space in, around, between.
This is the Creator's plan, Eden's blueprint, paradise here and hereafter.
This is Christ's salvation, Buddha's enlightenment, Mohammed's dream,
Zarathustra's revelation. This is the holy secret Great Goddess whispers
in her cradling lullaby.
All of consciousness, all that life can give, is an option to open eternally
into completion as full awareness of bliss. Breathe in the healing.
Breathe out the stale pain.
Laugh in the chilling rain, yes, even as the tsunami hits, the Earth quakes,
erupting ash burns, take my hand, my word, my promise.
A universe of bliss is yours for the accepting. It costs nothing but your sins,
your misconceptions, your resistance to true unfettered life, your immortal soul.
(c) March 2007 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
The Art of Magic
Listen to the heart of bliss.
Lie on open sand, feeling
ocean breeze, smelling vibrance
under oceanic starlit sky
breathing eternity, opening
inward to see intricately
expansive visions -- poetry
of thought in magical splendor.
All art is magical; all magic is art.
Yet they are not the same, and part
of a grander landscape.
(c) March 15, 2007 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
It's Magic!
Silly wizard,
there's no need to make a show
for an audience to applaud
the grandeur of your power.
Your every desire is yours,
you know. It is you;
it is here; it is now;
you are at singularity
moving the mystico mutual strands
into twain, into perfection.
I am I am Me am We
rustically rambling, enjoying
the scape of a scope eternal,
rippling muscles just to feel
the lazy goodness,
smelling the loam and new mown hay.
(c) March 17, 2007 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
Traveling beyond Persephone's garden
on the etheric threshold
'tween life and death.
Taking an oblique path at the crossroads
onto an accessway
along the axis of bliss.
It's not a road on which
the dramas fade.
It's not about a numbing block
to pain.
Drama unfolds --
my chemistry responds exquisitely.
Touch is just touch;
sensation merely information.
All the appointed tasks,
routine errands of the everyday,
little pauses along the bliss path
allowing me to breathe the scent
of endless possibilities
as path and consciousness expand
blissfully aware.
(c) March 1, 2007 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
People seem to be threatened by the idea of bliss, trying to corral the ineffable with definitions.
How can I put words around without restricting open-ended bliss?
Have they no faith in their loving Creator?
Have I no faith in my co-creating higher Muse?
The suffering, disappointments, traumas, desolation -- these are not the gifts of deities
demanding or displeased. These are natural consequences of forces set in motion
impervious to prayer, blind to persons, unaware of our individual sad stories.
Meaningless happenstance we give greater power by attributions of guilt, blame,
bitter condemnation.
Take a little turn, I tell me, into a new truer dimension to perception.
Bliss is the source condition that surrounds us, is the essence of,
all that space in, around, between.
This is the Creator's plan, Eden's blueprint, paradise here and hereafter.
This is Christ's salvation, Buddha's enlightenment, Mohammed's dream,
Zarathustra's revelation. This is the holy secret Great Goddess whispers
in her cradling lullaby.
All of consciousness, all that life can give, is an option to open eternally
into completion as full awareness of bliss. Breathe in the healing.
Breathe out the stale pain.
Laugh in the chilling rain, yes, even as the tsunami hits, the Earth quakes,
erupting ash burns, take my hand, my word, my promise.
A universe of bliss is yours for the accepting. It costs nothing but your sins,
your misconceptions, your resistance to true unfettered life, your immortal soul.
(c) March 2007 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
The Art of Magic
Listen to the heart of bliss.
Lie on open sand, feeling
ocean breeze, smelling vibrance
under oceanic starlit sky
breathing eternity, opening
inward to see intricately
expansive visions -- poetry
of thought in magical splendor.
All art is magical; all magic is art.
Yet they are not the same, and part
of a grander landscape.
(c) March 15, 2007 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
It's Magic!
Silly wizard,
there's no need to make a show
for an audience to applaud
the grandeur of your power.
Your every desire is yours,
you know. It is you;
it is here; it is now;
you are at singularity
moving the mystico mutual strands
into twain, into perfection.
I am I am Me am We
rustically rambling, enjoying
the scape of a scope eternal,
rippling muscles just to feel
the lazy goodness,
smelling the loam and new mown hay.
(c) March 17, 2007 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
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