The Song We Sing

You come and go. The doors swing closed Ever more gently almost without a shudder. Of all who move through the quiet houses, You are the quietest.

We become so accustomed to you, We no longer look up When your shadow falls over the book we are reading And makes it glow. For all things Sing you: at times We just hear them more clearly.

Rainer Maria Rilke, the 20th century Prague born poet, does shine a light on the complexity of our consciousness. Our consciousness moves faster than the speed of light, and we never hear its sounds. We are so accustom to the energy that defines us we take it for granted. The Zen within our actions goes unnoticed until we begin to hear the silence of our mind.

We are a catalogue of actions. One action blends into another, and the energy from those actions spreads through the silence of our multidimensional being. The ego overlooks the silence in order to add to our physical experiences. It is like the eye, which doesn’t see itself. Our unnoticed consciousness comes and goes through the swinging doors of several realities.

There are moments when we do sense our inner world, and we experience life more clearly, but we call those moments illusions or dreams. The song our consciousness sings becomes an empty verse filled with the ignorance of self separation, but the rhythm from our song never stops.