If the words get in the way

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If my love gets in the way

If the change comes and this I Am is not ready

I must not be afraid to let it die

For in the life I search out purpose

If only to be content

 now content

 have I found the meaning

To at once be finished and have no beginnings

That is the end goal of the narrow way.  

.kevin lloyd lakes.

 

It is the power of writing

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to help the author and reader to find.

the ability to see that there is a need for focus

on the words to see.

the living moment is where your comprehension begins.

The portals for connection are all around us,

Although it usually takes something very eloquent

or something vulgar or violent,

to pay attention to the present.

the voices of pride, judgment or reason hide it right in front of us.

Breathe deeply a couple of times.

When you pause, and then listen,

 Voices start in again and the I AM takes over your attention.

The mind is the engine of these voices.

 Can you recognize that you are not your mind.

Just as these words are not your thoughts.

The thing then is to feel,

That there is a point in the heart

The force that transcends us,

God of the universe,

When you notice that you do exist,

Breathe silence and the noise.

The heart in truth

feels that the living moment

is the only sting that has any effect. 

 .kevin lloyd lakes.

 

If I do

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not respect myself,

for I have far to many faults.

what would I say moreover do,

what would I use to explain the excuse.

The distractions held on to,

Again and again I fall short,

Maybe that’s the point of The Way

this journey I Am demanding its say.

This is not easy,

Holding the light.

the awakening has started

each in perfect time will shake off the sleep.

action the strength

value movement has a cost.

The Most High you must find,

comes from turning off

the Self desires

deep inside

the death i try to hide.

Brotherly love will blind,

That power to connect,

straight and narrow

of which is the test in all respect.

.kevin lloyd lakes.

 

Norman’s Gate

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As with passing on leads to a procession.

All things have a beginning in time

that measure the impact,

 drawing a dividing line,

Marking the point of collision,

A moment of the unavoidable kind.

Long time ago,

Remembered most days if truth you must know,

Not always as good as I try to show,

The push and pull at odds I seem to grow.

I look at life as the view from that day,

Pretend sometimes to enjoy the day,

Of what we wish and seldom really say.

Glimpse of healing from time to time,

As greater perspective I find,

The question I ask over again is not just mine.

  the purpose of tragedy ever understood,

Part of me thinks it should.

Shows the risk involved in life,

Rarely am I totally safe,

Calls out the difference at stake,

To remember not to fake,

The introductions to others I make.

Shedding the fear no longer afraid to act,

Alternating back and forth from the defensive I go on the attack,

Cycle of circle, 

Escaping nothing,

The gate keeps swinging,

There is a chance of finding,

the precarious balancing,

In just now being,

through the Gate a point of entering,

it will bear witness of the change when return trip exiting

a landmark, a point in time, turnkey for awakening,

threshold punctuates the experience,

 the depths

 of this life worth living.