Morning Meds; 7 1 19
Sometimes a morning stroll down the corridor of your soul can bring unprecedented splendor.
I heard the morning call for meditation, someone had struck the gong.
The song of the gong swelled within my stillness, I felt it’s ease and slowly sang along.
“I am, the I am, I always am.”
“I am, the I am, I always am.”
In the darkness before me a splendor began to unfurl,
endless rows of seated priests, arranged in rank-and-file.
They all sang the same refrain, together they sang as one.
I was one among the all and the all was everything.
We each held a translucent orb cradled on our laps.
It contained the sagas of all our lives and all of our realities revealed.
Our lives of the past, our lives to come, the life we’re living now.
We all looked straight ahead.
We looked as if we saw, but there was no form, no brilliant glow, no glitter, nor a show.
Yet before us was the Source of All in the fullness of it’s glory.
We were it and it was us.
Identical, one, the same.
Not one of us, was the least part less, not one of us was more.
We all had gathered to sing the song,
The song of the sounding gong.
“I am, the I am, I always am.”
“I am, the …”
Sorry if didn’t acknowledge you this morning, I know you were there too.
Meditative Imagery 