ENTER ME INTO THE GREAT ADVENTURE
1
Enter me into the great adventure
Don’t let the Tygers of Wrath
pounce at the inception but
lurk at the sidelines behind
banana leaves the size of continents
waving in a wind as great as an
eyelash blink that fans the
cosmic spaces
Each step a plunder of the invisible
each departure a leaving of treasure behind
for the inestimable treasure ahead
Pearl of Great Price
haunted already by what we’ve
never seen
carrying the shadow that will be
cast down at the
death of our minor being to the
allowance through its empty gateway of Your
greater Light
O Thee to Whom we turn without
turning but Who by true turning we would
return to Thee
2
The train left off all its passengers
and went on by itself
The fire consumed the village mountainside
and then consumed itself
The sky beamed down above the lake
then gazed a long time at itself
Eagles hovered for a while in the air
then flew within themselves with giant
wing-flaps toward the heavenly light
that shone only for itself
We stand up for a time then
lie down in ourselves without leaving or
not leaving behind the list of our
duties to be fulfilled by everyone but
ourselves
The day pulls itself over itself and
reveals stars beaming by themselves
though space that is
itself
where nothing but itself exists
to contemplate itself
3
How honest can we be
when everything’s melting instantly?
We contemplate our features in a glass
and it too melts away into the past
The river washes all its suds around our feet
whose every crescent of its ripples can’t repeat
The sun bends down upon our bending forms
whose only beckoning comes from earthworms
The sky fills with incredulous white light
that convinces us that everything’s all right
and it is in every cranny of our lives
where zebras leap and honeybees keep hives
where lions snooze with muzzles on their paws
and everything’s fulfilled by its own laws
created by the Lawgiver Supreme
whose proof exists in a single eyebeam
cast on the melting world before it melts
and leaves behind the mystery of its wealth
where nothing else is at all by God
whose nothing else was Him all along
revealed
4
He is He
and none other is He
but He
And He is
everything
_______________________________
11/14/11 (from The Match That Became a Conflagration)
Ecstatic Exchange / Poetry of Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore 
I love your poems, heres one of mine 😉
Fight, 100% natural, no additives
(from Thomas for Suzanne)
Prolog
At night
Between the branches of the tree and the moon,
their images meet on the surface of the the invisibly clear water.
But the idea of their respective realities meet in the minds of those men that stand on the shores of the lake, watchful, knowing that there is water. (and, of course, fish)
But so clear is the water, that it could not be seen without the mirroring
of what is reflected in it.
Without a frontier there can be no contact.
Without knowledge of that fact, there can also be no real contact .
Because, as we just saw, or just see, the water does not really exist if no one knows of it.
Even if there are things mirrored in it. These things actually being metaphors wating for
being known as such. You guess, the water itself is a metaphor…
But why should there be any contact at all?
Why should there be ANYTHING at all?
Now in a metaphorical way, the water itself is the knowledge, or let us say the primordial awareness
that by necessity has to remain invisible itself. That is, for ever! That does not mean we cannot drink it. We actually can drink this unseen water, if we know where it is. And we know where it is from the reflections on its surface. Maybe now the water is no more so metaphorical.
Maybe the metaphor lies in its interaction with Existence, that is, everything, including the abovementioned minds of the fishermen.
But its essence is not metaphoric at all. It is in a way nonexistent, that precedes existence,
it is the condition for existence. In every single moment, not just as the famous prima causa.
The surface of the water is the frontier that makes contact happen.
And without the mirror nothing would meet anything, not even without anyone knowing it. And with nothing meeting anything, there would be no language. And without language, there would be no knowledge.
Without knowledge then, would there be water? Would the first be there without the last?
And since, of course, the last would not be there without the first, the first frontier is between darkness
and night – beetween darkness and light.
But this frontier stays invisible until it is known about.
And, as we already know, an unknown frontier makes absolutely NO SENSE,
the first cosmic event of drawing a line beetween darkness and light, or between existence and non-existence, is an order that has to be followed: Know! But see above, what are the prerequisites of knowledge – language. So that means: In the beginning was the word. It had to be.
It could not be: Know! Because there was no one there to know.
It had to be.
It had to be: Be! Be, in order to know!
But who can speak such a word, if no one is there?
But nonetheless, it was spoken. It follows from strict logic.
By someone who was not there. To someone who was not there.
Could this not be the most ironic beginning of a glorious partnership?
Full of contact, between Non-Entities, that only exist by the essence of the prerequisite for their metaphor. No, thats hard to attain, isnt it? So the first step should be to absolutely forget about the
metaphor. Lets play reality! Pouring from the empty into the void.
Instead of being full of contact, let us have full contact. Without boxers gloves. Until our little brains swell so much that we almost pass out. And then, in that swoon, it may happen that the primordial
drive reminds us. That would be the first real contact between the nonexistent creator and his nonexistent creation. That would make sense, because it would shed the light of knowledge
about our being alone from before-time to after before-time- and why we started the fuss in the first place, and that is….
Now, dear reader, you could be tempted to think that if I speak of “us” that would mean humans.
Not at all! Its everything BUT humans, even if “us”, what so ever from viruses to rats, horses, canaries or guinea pigs we “are” in turn are valid metaphors for such purely fictional entities as “humans”.
They can be, and they can even be in order to know, but the do not actually know.
They either miss language, or contact, or water. They identify, and just with that act lose the connection no the nonexistent who ordered them to be in order to know.
And of course, what can they know? If there is no one to know, they only can know this no one,
as He reveals himself to them in them and by them, and by everything else.
Now they know many things, but they dont see through them, and become the things they know.
Because they build metaphorical frontiers, where only real frontiers reflect meanings hidden in existence. I have to stop here, suffice to say that there is absolutely no hope for mankind in
the bestial condition they skillfully keep themselves in. But that does not matter at all.
Matter does not matter, it is easy as that. Matter, or mass, is etymologically nothing but a lump of substance, without any spiritual reality. It means nothing, it passes by, and leaves no trace.
At best it makes a nice dish.
Actually, nothing ever leaves a trace, except Elvis, who just left the building.
And those are his footsteps, right there! You either see them, and know what they mean,
or at least that they mean something, friggin anything at all,
or you dont, and thats all for now.
You either love Elvis, as he cant help falling in from the stage with you,
or you imagine he is dead meat as you are. Of course, they you I am talking about is part of the nonexistent “us”, including me, so no offence meant, ok?
But Elvis lives 4 ever!!!!
There is one very small other possibillity,
but Elvis said I may not talk about it, or face electrocution.
But I digress.
Ich glaub ich hab sie nicht mehr alle. Aber wer hat die schon…
*
The following events happen at exactly the same time, during which the fishermen and some women stand on the shore of the lake, watching the merged images of moon and trees reflecting on the water, sometimes torn apart by jumping little fish, and constantly, but almost imperceptabel by the senses from each to the next moment, slowly moving away from and through each other, as the moon follows his orbit around the madly revolving earth.
That is, right NOW, but not on the same geographical lenght,
not even necessarily in in the same galaxy. Anyway, its both in autumn.
At the same time, in February, I wrote this text,
and also in exactly the same presence,
you, dear Reader, in precisely this moment, read it!
How is that possible? Maybe you or even I will find out one day, or maybe not,
but it is absolutely true, and if you do not believe it, then beware, it does not matter.
*
Around ten o clock in the morning
A frog is jumping through the Fog
while after him there runs a dog
The dog is followed by a fox
who´s also trying to catch frogs
If fox knew dog he would let frog
but all are covered by the Fog
Except for one
who stands aloof
On one long leg only
without a move
Still his beak above the Sea of Fog
stirred up by this Foxdogfrog
That spills forth in a tidal wave
those, who belong there, to the their grave
(Who would that be? Who not? Who knows? And where?)
The Stork just bows
and first the frog
is taken out
of his lifes fog
with skillful care
(allow a little discourse by Stiff-legged-Master Adobar:
“Frog soon will change
in part to wings
in part to eyes
in part to stinky things
will rise to heights formerly unknown
and then again be overthrown
be buried in harsh sands of time
and come to life again – sublime
may that he´ll bear an oriental princess´ glory
I leave that for another story
so lets continue with this one
without intending any pun:”)
As High is parted from belower
the dog´s now also getting slower
and sees the fox who by this hound
in turn is taken underground, fangs in neck
so that, of four, just two survive –
enters the the Sun, broad smiling:
C´est la vie (He´s french, it means “Thats life”)
and now he draws his Knifes of Rays, soooo hot
and cuts the wavering Fog a-way
to see him back another day.
Sun then goes to settle soon
on His bench
enters Mdme. Moon
she´s also french, the dog mourns “UUUuuuuuhooo”, for she´s so cool
and wolved down foxes make hard stool
The Stork with glibbery frog his stomach filled
dreamily digesting on his favourite stilt
still standing quiet, he has no organ
for speech, nor rhyme, but in the End, thats also fine, or maybe not
Alas, if all delicate creatures get eaten
sollt man die Natur verbieten, das hat doch alles nur Zweck und keinen Sinn
(come on, forget it, let it be! Here we are not in germany!)
Be it then, for this mad-raving revolution,
let me as poems president at least sign her constitution:
Let´s be predator
Let´s be prey
Let us come
and go away
But
Let us pray
Let us strife
for the eternal Ray of Life
To be of it, be killed and kill
but tell metaphor from the Real.
To let the fools rush in and out
and only guess the whereabout
Of All and Elvis, who just left the building
or is he sitting on this passing cloud?
I hope that we will never know
cause that could easily spoil the show
Sometimes the good comes to the slow
the ones that wait, and turn, bend
And after that again will stand
nurtured by meanings from what was meant
On the surface
or within
and whence?
what rhymes with above?
Must surely be a boxers glove, or is there a hidden word in the whole equation?
Does it matter? Wouldnt it be better,
to leave this farce as lumps of bloody splatter, with no more hesitation,
like did our witty fox?
Or may that painful constipation
dissolve at last to a real elation?
When the howling domesticated wolve raises a soft smile from the Moon,
that She borrowed from her hotheaded Master,
who in turn reflects it from the infinite core of being,
where the stork clacks endlessly without rhyme and questionable reason, but rather loud,
Will all those evanescent beginnings rhyme with their infinite Ends,
as the Fog returns to be the pasture of Light,
or will it the earth just be burnt bare to their rocks?
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