Pro Platonic Penetration

There in the ashram I was sitting; to meditate. There was no time to hesitate; by the tree of knowledge, so nurturing, I was sitting in the quiet presence of the ashram, held by the warm embrace of the serene glow.

Sitting there, in the ashram, it felt as if a part of me had always lived there, in this presence, feeling this love, this never-ending euphoria all around me: the delirious incense, burning, floating all throughout the hallways and the main chamber, the soothing sound of the ancient flute in the air, coming out of nowhere and from everywhere, seething at this point.

My oblivion and my alertness both emerging at once; letting me experience this lucratively glorious sensation; The whisper, heard in time, caressing me, this sweet aroma of nature and clay, of soil, of earth and the early breeze of the dawn which has passed through the dews of the moist midnight, cooling my soul.

I take a few drops of the tree sap; it makes me alive, brings me to life. I lie on the wet grass, now out of the halls, the damp, fresh air is melancholic and so still, moving and trembling and there’s the shaking of the earth so vibrant.

I’m breathing; I’ve been taught to breathe this way, it helps. It works like magic; “like” magic. But the real magic occurs when I simply let go of the learned and hang on only to the new, so to speak. With closed eyes, legs crossed and of course a straight spine, I sit to meditate, I sit to let go.

And so I go; I don’t get far, so obvious! Because the child, the little boy is awake. He wants to play yet another one of his old games, the slide game, it turns out; his favorite. But now he’s realized it’s just a game; only a game. It’s fun and all but it is, after all only a game. And he’s growing up this boy…

The ashram, the perfect replica of what the world’s made of. Some here, not knowing why; it pains me. It pains me how they close the doors and put giant padlocks on them and throw the keys in bottomless pits or the volcano even!

And I start dancing, right there, in the middle of the ashram, among the meditators, I’m just circling around, spinning, forming these very harmonious moves which I have always known but hidden in me.

The voices touch me and caress me and embrace me. Oh how full of joy. The rhythm is in the air and there’s air in the rhythm. I am the rhythm, ready to fade away, fade out, vanish.

I shouldn’t, but I occasionally do take a glance at the now even darker space, the cold, chilly breeze and the scared, scary faces so out of light, being tortured by their arch enemy, the self. Oh how it diminishes and dismantles the soul; squashes it right under its humongous giant feet.

Oh but love yet stays here, in this air. God lives in this ashram if you ask me. That’s why you possibly cannot get lonely around here; god is here, right here in the ashram. He lets us play together, we all can play. In the valley of love, there’s only joy, only goodness. Why then, be anywhere else? How could I? how would I ever? I shall be only here, and yet…

The pathless woods… the shore… the ocean… the music… NATURE… eternal nature

Let me have you; let me touch you all over and smell you; kiss your every inch and embrace you. Let me be yours, truly yours. Let me give you all I have, all my love. Let me just die for you; let me make love to you…sweet, passionate Love…

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