Innocence Vs Naivety

Calmness within the everlasting journey.
The most poisonous of thoughts
is the corruption and decay of man.
Is the sporadic deceit of the Universe upon the soul.
The most ambrosial of thoughts
is the absurdness of genuine dishonesty.
That the fraudulence of the Cosmos is reverential charity.
In the presence of our own death, we face two options –
Betrayal and laughter.
One inevitably leading to the other.
Skipping to and fro, to and fro.
Sometimes cuddling with laughter for a season’s end,
Sometimes spoiling in betrayal for a lifetime.
So, I’m watching.
Watching it all clamber tightly with eagle-claws,
Transmuting into the arrow-pointed focus
Within eyes of debonair countenance.

Everything happens to be glinting side by side.
Innocence next to naivety.
So that the difference can be sought.
Hasn’t it always been the case,
that it was naivety that destroyed our innocence?
Ah, what paradoxes surround our twilight.
Benevolent stillness.
A brazen, polished, stillness –
A potent finesse of silence within the silence.
Flanked on all sides by ripe, deliciously ever ripe, karma.
Lucrative, ferocious karma.
Proclaiming evermore, again and again, I love you.
Laugh, you fool, laugh.

Innocence next to naivety.
A muddled brain, unable to discern one from the other.
Give me guidelines, it screams.
Give me a way to know for certain –
So that I may forever know that which is radiant and pure.
Disintegrating reality floods hysteria into the bloodstreams.
Where is the plush incredibility of surmounting elegance?
Of freedom. Of transformation.
Is the brutal truth also not the elegant truth?
Are they not one and the same?
A reprisal of their oneness through pygmalion fantasies.

Naivety is indiscreet – a false sense of virility.
Wishfulness personified.
Innocence is both medieval and modern,
Both reckoning and vulnerable.
Tasked with this apprehension to know the identity
of naivety,
Do you not notice the entrance of precaution?
The stillness is not white-golden yet.
Not yet.
Venomous naivety.
Jittery with macabre audacity.
Smoldering in the furnace of depravity.

The innocent can yet be cautious. Sober, is the word.
The innocent man is a sober man.
The naive man is a drunkard.
The innocent can leap into the abyss –
Twinkling with the formidable fragrance of sincerity.
The naive man is intoxicated with mollified bravura,
Convincing himself –
Obliging himself,
with brisk courtesy.
Ah, it seems such a fine line.
Such a fine line between a lie
that causes you to fall splat-crunch onto the stone,
And a truth that blooms you into base satori.
Blooms you so perfectly, that you fly.
All the thick iron degradations of naivety
would have been pealed away.
The rustic corrugated iron
that collects over innocence in masked webs.
Bruised hot gates of barb-steel
passing off as lotus petal wings.
Painted, infact.
Painted the colour of innocence.
So we may think there is no difference.

In order to fly, you must lose all your naivety,
And embrace all your innocence.
Such a fine line, it seems.

Beyond the Visible Colour.

He came from insignificance.
A growth of fantasy that solidified from nothing…
There’s nobody home, and then there is?

How many moments does it take for a visualisation?
Did he come or was he always here?
As he waltzes to the edge of the visible colour…
I see him. Yes. I see him.
Then he’s gone.
And I wonder, was he ever there?
Some say if you concentrate, reality beats itself
upon you to the extent of solidifying the image.

My image is real.
I exist.
I am immortal.

So that’s how I come and go.
As I die my particles dissipate and
come together again.
So you see, I don’t die.
And do I?
He came from the dimension beyond the senses,
But in our arrogance,
We think he was never there…

with an innocence made of love
as wicked as emotions,
what rightful man could be enough
just to be serving you?
are you as naive as my thoughts
kept within illusions.
does beauty mean that of a dove,
that may be saying a lie so true.
lover, I’ve turned away..
retrieve my sanity.
if I now cry for you,
would you die for me?

The Search.

My love, you are gone.
Vanished forever into the depths of another world.
Heaven or hell, I do not know.
Light or darkness, I do not know.
Yet I mourn for you daily.
Praying that you recieve the better part
of an afterlife.
Praying that this time you truly
will be immortal.
I have lost you forever.
No. I will not let it be forever.
Even in death I will be a part of you.
So I travel to the edges of
This truly flat world;
And each provides an answer;
“Son, if your love is true, then shoot for the stars.
The Truth is hidden there.”
“Son, if your love is true, then neglect your flesh
and search your mind. Nothing can be denied then.”
“Son, if your love is true, grasp the purpose of life
and burn it in God’s kingdom. Your love will return.”
“Son, if your love is true, follow your heart.
No mistakes are made then.”
And to each I reply;
“Yes. My love is true.”
“And each time I think of you, my love.
And each time I expect the unexpected future.
Yet, I cannot join you.
Yet, I cannot have you.
Yet, if you can see me, I cannot see you.
Yet, I can proclaim my love for you,
and you will not hear it.
My frustration erupts from these failures.
All I know is that I cannot gain you in death.
In death it is a different accomplishment.
And yet I die. I die following my heart.
And my heart never makes mistakes.
And how true it is.
As I stand before God, he beckons me
To share my knowledge.
My knowledge is nothing more than what I have gained in
My search to be united with you.
So I burn my purpose of life in his great altar.
The Altar that blesses the body of Christ.
The Altar that blesses the blood of Christ.
Your body is my only food.
Your blood is my only drink.
And God is not selfish.
God is no depriver of love.
“Go,” He commands, “Go be bonded with your love.”
And he summons you to join me.
And we embrace. We embrace physically,
Which is never possible in death.
And I take you back to our own world;
To live our very happy, but mortal lives.

Beautiful Dreamer by Celest.

Beautiful Dreamer Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull’d by the moonlight have all pass’d away!
Beautiful dreamer, king of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng.
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E’en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!


~ by revolutionwithin on May 3, 2009.

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