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Recollecting Freedom

What I am about to tell you
is not any different.

You have heard before,
seen before,
thought before,
and perhaps even spoke before;
I AM just no longer, a surprise.

In any case, my role
simply a reminder for now –
You are, no truer than this,
And you are, no falser than that.

Simply but a figure in a painting,
‘fated’, scripted;
truly important enough,
without which the story reckoned, incomplete.

How hilarious, this paradox of fictitiousness,
entirely obliged to be authentic and real!
Yet, at the end of the day finally realising,
true freedom really, is no freedom at all.

A Prayer for Innocence

Such madness
pervading the innocent
of shame, guilt and fear.

Killing hearts of lambs
overrunning, overflowing;
how odd its power over one
from once such openness
to now, a shut closed door.

How much does it take
planning but all a scheming?
Where then space for Spirit
residing, awaiting for its call.

True that abiding thoughts
true that menacing feelings
pulling along, all that’s by the way
into the sea of confusion.

Oh Good Lord Within,
Your Grace upon all!
Spare the innocent!
Curb the ignorance!
So what was never lost
be reinstated in clarity.

Guide the lies to Truth!
Guide the hurt to Love!
That Serenity once again, bestowed
back into the Heart of Innocence.

~Written in November, 2014~

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Baby,
this is such an experience
sitting beside you here
in this grand hall of Lick Hung School
waiting for the possibility
of your name to be called.

The hall is in a mess,
with parents, teachers, volunteers
each trying to serve their best interest
managing their other children, the students and the event
liken the atmosphere of a wet market
just perhaps 10 folds more.

The sound from the microphone,
adding to the atmospheric noise
calling out names after names
while we held each other leisurely
arms around each other
planting kisses on each other’s faces
just for the fun of it.

Out of a sudden,
I noticed your hair messy
I opened my bag and took out our wooden comb
you noticed what I was doing
you turned your back against me
as if getting the message of what I am about to do.

I removed the black rubber band from your hair,
your hair fell frivolously
I started combing your hair
and noticed you started reading the book you brought.

Each stroke of your hair, I noticed
as the bizarre noise continues
suddenly, there was a void
like Time stood still for us
as if, in that whole spinning environment
that moment existed
only for you and me.
I wish I could tell you how magical it was
you, me, your hair and the comb…
as if nothing else existed
~Just the Lover and the Beloved~

After your hair was done,
you turned around and asked me
‘Mommi, what if I don’t win anything?’
suddenly revealing your anxiousness.

Noticing your insecurity,
I answered politely
‘So what if you don’t win?’
purposefully instigating thought.

You turned your lips downwards,
and then shrugged your little shoulders
while munching the peanut butter jelly sandwich
I packed for you earlier this morning.

So, you didn’t win an individual title.

And I said to you, ‘it’s ok.’
you looked up at me
surprised at my response
waiting for more to be uttered.

And I say to you, my dearest
‘What matters most is the experience.’
‘This is your first time,’ I explained
‘so you don’t really know what to expect.
‘The next time if you are ever nominated again, you will be better prepared.’

You nodded your head in silence.
Probably relieved
I did not a pull a ‘I told you so’ stunt.

Yet, Mommi being the cheeky Mom,
I just had to add to it
‘now you know why mommi always asks you to do extra math work?’

You looked at me with a smirk,
and rolled your eyes cheekily
reflecting my own cheekiness
with acceptance of not winning.

Still, I am proud of you,
and words and actions cannot be enough
to describe how wonderful you truly are anyway,
whether you win or not win at all.

Because my darling baby girl,
when you no longer need a reason to win
when you no longer bother if you win
when you realize you win even when you lose
that’s when you have finally truly won.

And I show you this piece of expression
after proofreading the above paragraphs.

I see with my own eyes
how your eyes open up
how those lips curved to a smile
thinking you must feel heartwarmed
having such a romantic Mommi.

I asked you if you understood it
Alas, how you answered me!
Without a second thought
and with a sassy grin
you shook your head and said,
‘No, mommi I don’t.’

In shock, I looked disbelieved
in response, you giggled like a champ
and then I squint my wide round eyes
and we both hugged as winners do.

*written on 23/11/2014 @ 11:45am*

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Fading Shadow

image credit to tedhelard.blogspot.com

image credit to tedhelard.blogspot.com

I was,
like still water;
undisturbed, unperturbed.

You were,
like a sudden pebble tossed into water
causing continuous ripples upon tranquillity.

A movement initiated
for the loving quest for Truth
oh, what a sweet endeavour
surrounded also, by enduring Love.

Healing and humour
all wrapped up in bundles
perpetual releases following forgiveness
clearing baggages – can it be otherwise?
at the end, light and free
with clarity heeding way.

I pointed, you looked.
You spoke, I looked.
Both finally revealed; how we chuckled at the end.

Indeed a splendour completion
in each of its process
moving on weightlessly
in graceful generosity.

Honoured, I am
to have been chosen selectively
a comrade, a buddy
no more, no less.

Yet, strangely a fading shadow I shall be
almost gone unnoticed
perhaps someday forgotten
for a task completed, a role no longer needed.

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A Dance with Light

with earphones secured
song on repeat,
dancing inside, an owned world;
incredibly and totally,
immersed and absorbed.

occasionally, peeping out
for errands to be addressed
maybe a few words to be exchanged;
yet never, not once – leaving its core.

ecstatically wholesome
oh, what sensuous joy,
luxuriating in such momentum
oh, what stupor delight…

Light residing in heart
illuminating mind;
so bright, so clear, so whole,
so full, so complete,
simply
so, so… indescribable…

can you see me, Love
dancing…

my inner world dancing…
Just For You…

*inspired by a visiting Light in the night*

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Going By

Sadness does not mean need
Missing does not mean want
Because what it entails
Is simply an experience lost or gone.

Accompanied by an imagination of none
That can be found in future
Yet who am I to conclude
Who am I to judge?

The dance of the One
Who plays its puppets to its whims and fancies.

Each beholding a faithful servant
As Masters of each own
Deciding which ‘version states’ to participate
Therein lies the choice.

One period may be roast beef
Another, possibly chicken stew
Perhaps, what comes next
Simply a vegetarian dish
That many long for but can never obtain.

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Purist

Love without defilements adheres to the every wish of the Beloved ~ without question, without qualms.

~ GG ~

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Relurking Opening

What a strange place to be
Again
Residing in between
A journey takes off
So does a game.

Basking in enthusiasm
Past traps surfacing
Unusual yet familiar
Will the end be the same?

The illusion of choice
Of possibilities
Hovering clouds
Blurring initial intent.

What to become of this
In surrendered will
In sternest grounding
Perhaps Salvation is just around the corner.

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The Flowering of Love

taken @ thedusun, Malaysia, 2011

taken @ thedusun, Malaysia, 2011

When you see a flower in the garden, and in the presence of that flower you feel good and alive. You call the flower ‘beautiful’, and you cut the flower out of the ground, and place the flower in a vase on your windowsill.

You say to the flower, “You are mine and mine alone, beautiful flower. You make me happy and whole. Do not leave me and do not change or I will be broken…” ­­

– and you have the audacity to call this ‘Love’.

Wrenched from its natural ground, divided from Source, the flower is ‘yours’ for a while.

Yes, you can tell yourself that; but soon it withers and dies, starved of life and possibility.

Deep down, you know that the flower could never be ‘yours’, so anxiety and sadness rumble underneath the entire project from the start.

This is not unconditional love, friends, this is possession; fear masquerading as love. This is the attempted annihilation of beauty in the name of security, and it is what we are taught and sold, and it is why your human relationships are fraught with such drama, unspoken expectations and deep sorrow.

Wake up to a deeper kind of love, friends, a love without conditions, a love that liberates, a love that never says “you are mine”, a love that would never wrench a flower from its beloved ground, a love that won’t possess or control but sees the beauty in another’s ungraspability, and loves their freedom despite the pain. A love that doesn’t come from without but is the nature of the within, the inevitable consequence of knowing how free you truly are.

Love the flower; see the beauty and the fragility of the flower. Yes, be infinitely kind to the flower but never forget, it cannot be yours and it cannot complete you. It belongs to the universe.

Love the entire universe through the flower, and let go of promises. We only make promises because we do not trust ourselves. There is only Now, and that is the ground of love, and its fertilizer.

~ Jeff Foster

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Forgotten Gods

When you see that face, those eyes, and their actions…
Stepping on children’s chest, pointing those guns in the face of those children,
And probably pulling the hair of those women, who seem too afraid to even scream,
And be hit in the face again and again, and finally, be violated of their purity…

Yes, I am sure; there’d be a wrench in the heart and a kind of silent yearn for justice from the voice of compassion, pity… whatever.

Yet, for whom would this be for?

And ah… so you see,

The brutes, are not really
but forgotten Gods.

And when you have remembered them in vain, that they are Gods;
They begin to join you in remembering themselves,
And you too, and the children, and the women…

The only justice that can ever be served here is in Remembering that they have forgotten, and Recognizing them anyway for who they are innately.

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