Contemplating a mystic poet
My existence vibrates in tune with consciousness. Before the beginning, the universe was a dot buried in the field of possibility. It was the vibrating energy of consciousness ready to release itself into existence. It was thought of separation in consciousness ready to manifest as the world that I know. I am the vibration of energy in form. This is consciousness-expressing, or I AM. I am consciousness-expressing. I am that which I AM, or twia. There is no other.
I can see that my life is not real. It is twia experiencing separation within consciousness as a dream. I dare not leave the world until ready. I am growing in awareness. Sweet words are spoken. Eyes start to open. The world pulsates with beginnings and endings. I am safe by not wanting. I tell myself, do not desire this and that, be aware of who you are, and let thoughts turn to words. Words become noise. The noise rattles between my ears, but I am beyond the noise. I am in the distant field remembering twia.
The wisdom that is Rumi says to get up at dawn to discover the moment that lights the morning sky. Unfold your wings. Let them dry in the air as it warms. It says that you are the miracle, the one who lives from within, the one who brings blue to the sky and green to the grass. You perceive all things. There is no dawn without you. You rise to greet the rising sun to find that all the world is aglow in you as you wing your way through the heavens. From high above, you witness all. It is not yours to do. Lightning in the storm crackles on its own. Rain falls where it may. The rainbow forms its own colors. Flowers sprout from seed without effort. Hold your wings out wide. The uplifting air of the new day will catch you. Do nothing but awaken in the early morning light, spread your wings, and soar.