Bliss

What a place to be alive,
inside your Self.

Once you discover the bliss
of falling, of being in love,
when there is no one around.

Homemade bliss,
in your temple
the garden shines,
a fountain of crystal light,
leaves flowing in pale, intense, warm blue,
a hue beyond words.

When there is nothing left but the rawness of life,
feeling it all,
shaken to the core,
split open,
your fire ignites,
spills out of you like water.

You have to feel it, to see it,
coming in and out of your Self,
a dream within a dream.

Dreamlike, only so much clearer,
so far away and yet more present than ever.

 

( how can you capture an essence, so deep, so pure?
you could spend lifetimes trying to describe it,
to show it in some way, shape or form.
but once you have tasted it,
you are peace, you are love,
you are life, alive.
the only way is to live that poem, as fully as possible.
It’s when death and rebirth begin to make sense.)


©steve sniukas