Known
Blackness deeper and darker
They exist and abide
Expuling, illuminating
Annalianating that
Which secreats cold more penetrating
Concentrated, absorbing
Darkeness,
The absence of that which is necessary
Tangible
Drawing life out from the depths
All consuming
Everywhere
Yet no where
A flame
From distant Angels
Out from nothingness
Shining
Congregating, massing
To form
That which is equal and opposite
To what is known as true
poem by Autumn Winds
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Related quotes
Evil Created by God?
Challenged with this university question,
One researched Truth's 'whole confession.'
How many, to such a question, might dare say yes;
If God created evil then He is evil, one might guess.
But, then, one student did profoundly asked:
'Tell me professor, does cold exist to last...? '
The professor replied, 'Of course it exists.'
What was this brassy student's logic, or gist?
Amazingly, the bold student retorted, 'That's not true.'
'With laws of physics, cold is the absence of heat (for you) .'
All can succumb to a proven study, as energy will transmit.
Cold does not exist; the word only describes how we feel, to fit.
The calm student continued, 'Sir, does darkness exist? '
The confident professor retorted, 'Of course it does.'
The student replied, 'Again, Sir, that's not right;
Darkness is actually the absence of the Light.'
Newton 's prism is used to break light into colours of aura.
Wavelengths cannot measure an unilluminated area.
The light's ray can break a world of darkness, illuminating it.
Darkness is termed to describe the absence of light, present.
Finally the youth asked, 'Sir, does evil exist? '
A bit unsure the man said, 'Of course (not wanting to resist) .'
At last the youth replied, 'Evil does not exist Sir (neath God's rod) .'
Evil does not exist 'unto itself, ' it is simply the absence of God.'
'God did not create evil, He created beings with free-choice.'
The youth was Albert Einstein; I am 'only relating his voice.'
poem by ArmourQuill Hunter
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Fire Element
The element of fire
Constructive, destructive
The bright light of fire
The slight of fire
The all consuming fire
Does not exist
In its natural form
Exists by consuming
Another form
It transforms from one
Form to another form
Fuels our passion
Leaves everything ashen
Duels the darkness
Heaves on compassion
Fire, constructively destructive
Fire, destructively constructive
Fire, living death
Fire, dying life
poem by Ricky Baker
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4. Elements – Fire
The element of fire
Constructive, destructive
The bright light of fire
The slight of fire
The all consuming fire
Does not exist
In its natural form
Exists by consuming
Another form
It transforms from one
Form to another form
Fuels our passion
Leaves everything ashen
Duels the darkness
Heaves on compassion
Fire, constructively destructive
Fire, destructively constructive
Fire, living death
Fire, dying life
poem by Anand Dixit
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Penetrating
My room was blackish
i lighted the candle light
and started penetrating the flame-beau
when my thoughts were nil
the flame-beau was blazing
i became conscious and understood
life become fascinating
when we start penetrating.
poem by Swetha Reddy
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Angels Are Not Saints
angels are not saints, we do believe that they exist
they can even transform themselves into human for
form, but still remain to what they are in their natural
phenomenon
they are called by many names, they too have rank to
obey, for angels lives like us, who work and have task
given by their master, in some moments we see them,
as they appears everyone notice them for angels, are
favorite images in every literature
angels are not God, that can judge nor an icon to be adored
in the altar that we throne, for only they serve to the master
where they return, in God's wisdom they are form
all angels are holy, but not a saints, as it could be, for only
man's nature reserved to be, by holiness one's sinfulness
make us saint in all eternity
angels is in highest stage, where over and above human sphere,
never that they are superior nor inferior to human lure, for one
mistake subject to be thrown to the fire that burn
angels are angels never be a saints for eternity, for our destiny
they are made, forever they well always lead us, we equal the
same beginning in the image and likeness of God, we took
and shared one love, a breath that last for a lifetime
angels as we, differ from they, who by the one who sent them,
reminds us all, to be, in a nation of saints not of an angel
where we are call
poem by Antonio Liao
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A Philosophical Note On Life After Death
Death’s is a plunge into oblivion self
As an extinction of being.
It annihilates sensations and our becoming
To replace them with death's existence,
Life-a non existent death
And death-a non existent life.
As Epicurus said 'When I am, death is not,
And when death is, I am not, '
We can decline the religious afterlife,
As Gonzalez-Cruzzi did,
But we will never be able to understand
Our born life.
We can deny the visions of crossing over into the light,
When we need to believe
In darkness, silence and engulfing emptiness,
Always understanding that the nothingness needs rectifying.
Because we can fall into nothingness, to remain there eternally.
Coming into life can be a re-awakening of self
The real death is “eternal night”, as Swinburne defined it.
Nothingness can be anything positively existent,
But blackness and emptiness
Are black holes swallowing up the victims of death.
Thinking of Edwards' celebrities,
We may imagine a universe devoid of souls, spirits and mental essences,
A universe having an essential core identity
And divisible selves,
Anticipating the nothingness.
'When I die I won't go to heaven or hell
, there will just be nothingness', Isaac Asimov said once.
'That stuff which does not exist”, he wrote.
I don't know if there exists something that doesn't exist, but
All I know is that the nothingness exists because we are existent
In after death to define it as being existent.
''This life is the only existence there is; afterward there is nothing.”
Robert Nozick also wrote.
Yes, maybe 'nothing” may be a state into which we go, never to return
Or may not be, as Paul Edwards said.
Remember that Anthony Burgess wrote that if there is only darkness after death,
Then that darkness is the ultimate reality
And that love of life is no preparation for it,
Light -keeping the life
Darkness-keeping the death.
This rage against the dying of the light is very human,
Light never dies
It may be reborn from darkness
And vice versus.
But this rage may sound like madness.
And Burgess was raging more than ever
Against the imminent arrival of nothingness,
The eternal experience of no experience, in which
We witness our own extinction,
Or we become pseudo-selves.
Try to imagine the fear in front of that black abyss
And that your death is not the end of a divisible self experience,
But it’s like unconscious periods- pauses between periods of
Different consciousness,
Death-defying connections between consciousnesses
Self becoming impotent in its confrontation with blackness,
An abyss from which we manage to escape.
The 'nothingness' of unconsciousness may be a permanent death,
Which cannot be experienced.
Try to project yourself into the future,
Entering the blackness or emptiness of your non-experience.
The permanent death is coincident with the end of the entire universe
God is alone between two Bing Bang periods
We are aspired- in composing and recomposing
All the boring eons that passes without someone's existence
Would be irrelevant for the person who comes into being,
Even all the conscious entities of the same period ceased to exist.
But, usually, when someone dies people around continue to exist.
Death and birth are 'functionally equivalent' to transformation.
The Christian view of life after death has justice
Being meted out to sinners
And the righteous receiving the reward that they deserve.
My question is,
Who can live an authentic life without knowing the meaning of the life?
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Radiance Of Pure Being
In the light of another sun
much brighter than this one
there no darkness is ever seen
as the mind of thought is clean.
When the ladder is climbed to that domain
what any go there with except love is vain.
Everything else may or can exist below
which is only what this light does show.
There is the Radiance of Pure Being
the like of which few are ever seeing.
A very rare experience by actual sight is had
as the mind is bewildered but the soul is glad.
Intellect and reason have been left behind
as all else except to that light one is blind.
Intuition or direct perception is the means
whereby the mind at its own source gleans.
Any limitations and divisions there don’t exist
only the effulgence of True Light does persist.
Though we receive light and warmth from the stars, moon and sun
all the light in the universe put together can’t ever equal That One.
Could it be That from which all of existence flows
as time and space by mind’s true reflection shows
and whatever seen here is the becoming of That which forever is;
in tangible finite shape or form a manifestation of The Infinite is?
The Radiance of Pure Being is also the essence of everyone’s soul
and so is seen after self effort and grace have performed their role.
To live through all of our days in life and be ignorant of That Light
isn’t what any of us have been born for in this world or given sight.
-----------------------
Note:
This poem relates to an experience vouchsafed to me while staying in the ashram of Swami Muktananda Paramahansa back in 1978. It was almost 20 years after that time the words or inspiration came to write about it.
poem by George Krokos
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The Goal Of Poetry
it is simply to reach
out to people
with our verbal hands
these mental arms
and make them
look
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
d eeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeperdeeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
too, within
themselves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Searching the truth
Nothingness of negation or
Negation of nothingness....
In self, we are the negation of nothingness,
But we allow the nothingness for self.
We allow the nothingness of consciousness
As a perpetual flight of the being.
We exist in self and we exist for self,
In a cartesian duality,
In a latin con-cretum,
When the certain being surpasses that being toward nothingness.
If Jesus did not exist,
the Christians would not be existent,
But Christians are existent.
No one can deny Jesus, as Son of the God,
And say that He is non-existent, at the same time,
As Son of The God,
Because no one can deny something that
Is non-existent,
As no one can deny the real essence of the existent.
The non-existent things are part of the reality.
He is existent in the Christian's mind.
He is non-existent in other's mind.
He is in idea.
There are too many wars for this idea..
Negation of nothingness
Lead to nothingness of negation
In a double negation.
Jesus is necessary for salvation,
Jesus is essential for salvation.
We need to be sanctified,
We need to be better than we are.
Without the assertion of existence,
The negation cannot destroy it.
We have a metaphysical necessity,
While God has His necessity of Himself.
And what would be the purity of intention
And the truth
Without this?
The denial of noes, which means fertilization, at Hegel,
The absolute duty to tell the truth, at Kant...
The human lie at Schopenhauer.
The existence and the non-existence,
Seemingly, an irreconcilable antithesis....
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Blackout
Screaming arrives
in pretension of silence
the last vein broken
no feelings lost
no feelings gained
everything runs
in unmoistured rains.
The contemporary
exhaustible heritage
swaying in a paradise
of untouchable
sequences.
Eclipses of
solid posing
but no substances
it's all open
every things for sale.
Wild roaming
found without
a heartbeat
a cold, cold surface
an icy escapade
skating over every shame.
It's another blackout
darker than
a pecking raven
eating away
at human consolment
left to exist
in deserts far, far away.
A plastic serenade
a stone marble parade
clinking upon roads
of sunken treasure
no-one knows anyone.
Just existing
for another crumb
of what could come true
it's darker than
ever before
every tender adjustment
to a hard chore.
Everyone just leaving
another piece
on an already
empty plate
how disturbing
the bonding human race.
Racing
into a blackout
it's lights out
on kindness
for a slow dying flame.
poem by Jodde Taylor
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Come to poet
Come to poet
And listen poem
In poem find life
Life detach.
Detachment only truth
Truth is nothingness
Nothingness is nothingness
Only nothingness is true.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Early Works - Time Out
Deep within the blackness
lay the barriers
known to all as time
with depths much deeper
than the boundaries of hell.
Within each boundary
lie one day,
one year,
and one century.
And still within the blackness
lies more barriers
known to all as the future
with heights higher than heaven,
which are guided by the hand of fate.
Time rules our lives
and fate rules time
to the extent
it causes destruction
or gives life to those in need.
Time can be a killer
and time can be a prayer,
time can be helpful
and time can be a menace.
Unlike anything on earth,
time has no ending,
where life can cease to be
time will carry on
even when all life has gone.
Time to us is just a word
for one cannot see time;
one cannot feel time,
though one can define time
as a passing.
We all live within a life cycle
where time is all around us.
Though we cannot see time,
it is a constant ruler
within our lives.
Time is measured for travel
in light,
in sound,
in speed.
Time is measured for life
in seconds,
in minutes,
in hours,
in years,
in centuries.
But time is only a word
and the meaning is so complex
that the real meaning
is hard
to explain.
Except that, life
as we know it
would never really
exist
without time.
Date Unknown
Authors Note:
Originally the title of this piece was Time, but I changed it for Time Out as I realised I had already written two later pieces with the same title. I believe this was written in the late 1960 and was the first piece with the title. On of my very early poems from the construction of it. Please do judge me too harshly because of it.
poem by David Harris
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Rubies
There are nine rubies in this Indian ring,
And every blood-red ruby is a part
Of the nine-petalled rose that is my heart,
The elaborate rose of my own fashioning.
Not out of any garden have I sought
The rose that is more brief than dawn or dew:
Stones of the flame and ice, I find in you
The image of the heart that I have wrought.
For you are cold and burn as though with fire,
For you are hard, yet veil soft depths below,
And each divided ruby seems to glow
With the brief passion of its own desire.
Rose of my heart, shall this too be the same?
For, when one light catches the wandering rays,
They rush together in one consuming blaze
Of indivisible and ecstatic flame.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Penetration
The mountain peak is penetrating the sky,
That lead sky, hidden behind the indigo clouds,
Tapping with its shade the rain shower,
Which beats the world of emaciated feelings,
Those feelings keeping the encroached souls
In a mesh of life without hope
And in a framework of themselves.
The sky is penetrating the mountain
In its valley's green depth
To the place, where
The life's last illusion flows
In the middle of the chasms,
Where the running water galvanizes
The gold silence,
Weary wandering seemingly to nowhere,
Trying to vanquish its metamorphosis
In the time sight
And on the time ear.
The echo of its sound
Is penetrating a new spring in its own,
When the absence of the old one
Means not forgetfulness,
Unlocking the ubiquitous meanders,
Making the rain to shine.
The cold gray stones
With their arms and their breasts
Are freaking the pick of their thoughts,
The strength of their iron veins
And their paradoxical conundrum
Like a voice, which is still alive,
Or like a mysterious touch.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Blackness
Venturing into a big black hole.
Emptiness surrounds, it fills my soul.
The grandness of the blackness takes control.
Hopeless, meaningless damn the blackness.
The blackness inside that does feed us and beats us.
It swallows me up and feeds my soul.
Heats the hate that makes me cold.
It reaches out and takes a hold.
To drive me further in blackness bold.
Further and further it's freakishly cold.
Enveloped yet to be told.
No boundries how far will it go?
We've got to see how dark the black can be.
So venture now to blackness hold.
You must be bold to take this road.
poem by Michael McParland
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The New Religion Of 'Nothingness
THE NEW RELIGION OF ‘NOTHINGNESS'
The new Religion of Nothingness
Hates God
And aims at Faith's Destruction-
The new Religion of Nothingness
Celebrates accident and incident
Idolizes the Purposelessness and Meaninglessness
Of it all-
And consoles us with speculations
That our universe may be a multiverse
Which too did not have to be created to exist.
The new Religion of Nothingness
Feigns Proof for its main contention
And gives Humanity no Hope
But only Nothing and more Nothing
As Beginning and End of all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am Nothing But That Energy! ?
'With all I have lost, I found
that I never had Anything.
looking at nothingness of me,
I learnt same nothingness behind everything,
And that nothingness felt not in this plane,
Here that nothingness acts as everything,
That is true in that plane,
This is true in this one!
When I depend on light,
Time and space come to existence,
Where that formless energy assumes form,
To achieve some work on its own,
I am nothing other than that energy,
still something makes me,
myself look different,
And different forms!
Even my or your identity seems to be
Nothing,
but for me that is Everything in love, and love is the basis of all creation,
when energy love to have some recreation! ! ! '
Look strange, if we put some effort to rearrange jig saw puzzle,
We definitely arrive at meaning,
And this confidence of energy
makes it try to solve using different forms,
This is its belief
belief of energy entering the matter,
Make it to move and think
And arrive at the Truth!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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In The Absence of life
In the absence of life..........
Sweet sexy summer in a
angelic wind,
coming from south in
no harm yet the
sky till feel absence
In the absence of life.........
if i lost my life
in pleasing man, please
remember my Achille's heel
in a acrostic poem
In the absence of life.........
indeed no life is absence
in anyway, except
the world is absence.
poem by Senator alufalism
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You exist now only in my heart
You exist now only in my heart...
You exist now only in my heart,
An ode to my internal defeat
A fading memory from an eternal realm,
A time gone by and incomplete.
You exist now only in my heart,
A message which truly proclaims
Your very essence and nature changed,
speaking softly your innumerable true names.
You exist now only in my heart,
As the wind carries my thoughts of you
Toward the angels standing in the clouds,
Innocently fairing me to bid you adieu.
You exist now only in my heart,
In the nature of who you've been,
But now, you are more than I'll ever know,
as I walk along this grassy knoll, ever so green.
You exist now only in my heart...
poem by Chad Fisher
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Empty Hands
The root cause lies
in conscious
thought,
for I have distained
to return to you
with empty,
hands unworthy, yet
loyal true love.
Is the greatest gift
greater than all.
Your shining influence
fills the depths of night.
Amazing luminous
clear twinkling stars
invigorating the heavens.
I would give you
the feet of angels
to walk on,
angels’ wings
to ascend on,
their bodies beauty
to dwell on,
my love
to depend on.
If in divine eyes
aspired I to favour
falling on my knees
these gifts would I ask for thee.
In tribute to a spirit
that moves upon the breeze.
May light ever
shine upon your hair
upon the beauty
that you wear.
May sleep grace
your noble tender form
with full glory
to depths you were born.
May sleep’s gentle tendrils
clothe you in peace.
So you awake fresh
to clasp all light you seek.
My one my only
under the sun.
Golden rays shine
from seventh heaven.
For illuminated you
my dearest one.
Upon those blessed beams
your vibrant leaven
is on earth the promised
glimpse of heaven.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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