in the world of dreams
i come to me, hanging on a thread of reality
- a spider dangling in the frame -
connected seamlessly in simple relation.
Eight legs for the eightfold path.

Cast up between heaven and hell, mountain and sky
in the centre of every duality, within and without,
I am in my own doorway
and my precious sleeping body is in bed.

The eye that sees I recognizes
my own fear, and i wake up
screaming from the spider,
and suddenly so aware of myself.

When is the last time you woke up,
unstuck from the glue of unconsciousness?

Hanging ,
I am seen so clearly and vulnerable
left exposed in the dark of bright corners
and light of hideous shadows.

Afterward, in the mirror, I see my my face,
carved in fine lines turned canyon
by all my relations.

The fabric of paradox is relational
and the confluence of merging
is emergence.

Everything that shall be, and is,
is here between us,
cast in the centre of duality,

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