|God vs. weapons of mass destruction chapter 2: the gift of pain
|If I haven’t lost you and you’re here, still, with me,
I’d like to try to show you how to set your spirit free.
If you are an atheist and don’t believe in God,
I appreciate this journey is unorthodox and odd.
But God is not a being: It’s the energy of ONE.
A total singularity; the All there is, undone.
And in its prime vibration it is nothing more than thought,
Though it cannot know itself, cannot teach; cannot be taught.
As Unity, the All there is is nothing but the void.
It does not know it’s living, yet it cannot be destroyed.
And all it wants to do is to explore itself today.
In every single format, in each and every way:
So Unity explodes in a massive sonic bang.
Space and time are born in which the Universe can hang.
Solids, liquids, gasses, planets, gravity and might,
Separation consciousness, the realms of dark and light;
Pleasure, pain, birth and death, creation and destruction;
Multipliers; great divides; addition and deduction.
God is all these things, and more, exploring as it goes.
And what we don’t remember is the lives we have, we chose.
Everything we are we chose; everything we see.
You chose to be this you right now. I chose to be this me.
And in this knowledge, I forgive the souls who did me in
They did it ’cause they had to: ’cause they would not look within.
If they’d looked within to see their suffering and pain,
They would have started healing in a way I can’t explain:
Real healing isn’t something people have to do;
It happens automatically whenever we are true.
Once I had a dream that I was running for a train,
Running through the centre of the city in the rain.
A homeless man sat begging on the corner of the street.
He didn’t have a coat or even shoes upon his feet.
I had to stop and look at him. I found it very strange
That he did not seem to mind this weather, begging for my change.
I put my hand to pocket and fished him out some money,
And as I did, the clouds dispersed. The sky was blue and sunny.
“Here you go,” I said, dropping coins into his tin.
He smiled as the sun began to dry our clothes and skin.
“Thank you, Sir,” he answered. “Now, I’d like to ask a favour,
“I couldn’t help but notice your most curious behaviour. . .
“Running from the rain when you’ll never get away;
“Running for a train that left the station yesterday;
“Running from a thing there’s no way you can avoid,
“When walking in the rain’s a thing that ought to be enjoyed.
“Nothing wrong with getting wet – It happens all the time,
“So why is it you’re running scared, like getting wet’s a crime?
“Getting wet can sometimes cause a shiver and a chafe,
“But when the pavement’s slippery, running isn’t safe.
“If you slip, you’ll fall and you could break an arm or worse.
“And then you will be driven to the station in a hearse.
“Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Sir?
“I know that I’m not you but I would listen if I were.”
And then the dream was over and I found that I was crying
Like a child who’s been caught red handed, stealing things or lying.
I felt ashamed, and knew that it was time to feel my pain,
So, for days, I let it drench me like a bout of pouring rain.
And sure enough, eventually, the downpour slowly ceased.
It felt as if a prisoner within had been released.
The clouds around my heart dispersed. The sun came out to shine,
And now I do not run from pain. I let it hurt. It’s fine.
It helps me see and heal and it helps me to forgive.
To me it’s so much nicer; it’s the only way to live.
So I let myself be vulnerable. It gives me strength, you see.
And I’m going to need my strength for what’s to come in chapter three.
31st October 2011 © Simon Welsh Poetry
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