0020 Bliss

After that first photo-flash in mind that signalled that there beyond where, might be a poem waiting to be formed; and there followed, that strange mixture in the mind of awe, surrender, thrill, and wonderment; and as the mind, now as obedient servant beyond the asking, brought the building stuff for this new, strange construction (though not, I noted, in the order that these would be used) – after all this, and the poem now on paper, I walked to the front door; and stood; and looked; looked like a child looks, and expects to look, seeing the world as gift; as ever fresh; no thought, no wish, the mind drained, grateful, of all thought except the awareness of just – being allowed to be – as the impressions flooded in, the senses sensed, watched, as all the – all – passed through without a judgment needed, made; and that portion of my mind now free to think or not to think, superb in that peace that comes with freedom, made the connection which was not intellect, but knowledge – pure knowledge which was almost silent, wordless worship of that 'that' which is beyond name and form, yet known - 'this, this, is bliss itself; this present self is bliss'.