…In a wholly senseless dream
Death of the body is nothing
Death of the mind is all
Death of the deathly mind
That seeks to know itself in form
Death of the heartless body
That suffers, falls and dies
Is nothing to deciding to
Awake from deathly lies
My mind is dead already
All I see is war
Conflicting tongues pull out their guns
Travail: the body’s law
Attacked, I am attacking
Or this I wouldn’t see
Beneath my mask of smiles
The darkness hides my murdering
My mind it is the murderer
My eyes perceive the form
Of ancient grievances
That propagate what’s earthly born
Destruction is the engine
This entrenched, deluded mind
Is desperate to presume control
Of what it cannot find
So death is my salvation
Whichever way I die
Death of the body serves the mind
That wants to stay in time
But what I choose to kill
Marks out the different paths I’m shown
A murderer I’ll be
Whichever way I choose to go
And death will feel the same
Whichever way around I die
The difference only
Death once or another thousand times
And so I make my choice
Within the dreaming of the world
I choose to die to death
And all its extraneous forms
I choose to see the minds
That are at war within my own
As one conglomeration
One single form, my home
And as I enter into
Each and every one I see
As I receive them, cellularly
Energetically
They penetrate my being
With their anger and their fear
Every attack I’m humbled to
Receive and hold so dear
As they become the one
That stood here, separate and alone
The death of all their dying
That I’d savoured in my tomb…
Becomes our sacred joining
As the two become the same
The million-bodied one
Is sanctified within my heart again
And as the phoenix rises
From the mighty mountain side
Her wings translucent fire
And her scream a wakening cry
The souls that cried within my own
Released to freedom’s shore
Their own decision reigns
But this true gift remains for all
That there is nothing left
Of space and time and putrid form
That into the immensity
Of holy life we’re born
We stand upon the parapet
Infinite space below
We sense the rushing of the wind
Into the void we flow
And, falling, we can understand
The body’s ever been
A misdirected passion
In a wholly senseless dream
Holly Rose Thomas 