Our Creator, dimensions, seeking & meditation

There is and can only be one Creator, Who created all that exists, including man and angel alike, out of that which was not as yet even nothing, simply by speaking. Our Creator does not exist; He created existence itself (though He did permanently manifest Himself into it later for us). You see, He is; which means that "being" and knowing is greater than existence and thinking. Thinking is not knowing, and neither is thought knowledge. The "I think, therefore I am," completely misses the truth; however, "To be or not to be," is much closer.
       Contrary to popular opinion (i.e., Michou Kaku, a world-renowned theoretical astrophysicist), there are only seven dimensions, not eleven (in the first major level of consciousness where matter & energy exists), and no parallel ones. You see, he left out of his mathematics the absolute that each successive dimension must be perfectly perpendicular to all dimensions below, even if perpendicularity must take on an entirely new understanding (e.g., time is perfectly perpendicular to heighth, width & depth, etc.).
       Also, those of you scientists (who are wasting a lot of our money) building "gravity wave" dectectors are wasting your time, because there is no such thing by any means. And, perhaps much to your chagrin, gravity is instant across the universe; otherwise it would completely come apart and "evaporate" back into that which neither exists nor does not exist. You see, gravity doesn't take time, but it does take space, instant across it at all times.
       The event horizon of a black hole is the cross-over "(mem-)brane" from the fourth to the fifth dimension. You can only have two axes of rotation in four dimensions, but with the greater mass & angular momentum which a black hole has, a third "axis" of rotation could only manifest in the fifth dimension (non-locational, non-durational existence), which appears mathematically to us as a "singularity."

Meditation   "The process of learning how to control
      the mind/soul (i.e., to rein it in) and its emotion/
      thought (taking its territory), to focus it, to
      concentrate and then finally learning how also
      to make it just shut up entirely and listen intently
      within (for that which this world knows nothing
      of), all in the essential context of interaction with
      the breath (not control of, a critical difference),
      after completely relaxing with a comfortable
      posture (back straight, head aligned), though
      remaining perfectly alert, always remembering
      to discriminate between imagination & true
      perception (keeping imagination silent and
      perceptions shelved for later), continuing ever
      deeper & deeper within, toward being and
      knowing beyond existence entirely."

   So, go within or go without, in every sense of that phrase. And let not others, the world at large or even yourself tell you who you are, but seek of our Creator, Who knows who you are perfectly, within. There is no greater search, than unto Him for truth, being, perfect light, knowing and understanding.

How do I know these things? Let's talk and I will show you.

       *selah*

The elusive one

Melancholy calls and only sadness hears
and (while sharing brief respite with great joy)
looks back, shaking head…   knowing same

Same runs through great expanse of time
among no ken…   while none see
and Creator beckons away melancholy

Melancholy hopes for promised twinkling
while eye holds vigil, unveering
unable to help all who pass…   blind

Blind they go, toward end
with new beginning utterly unseen
last to see them go…   melancholy fading…

--RK, 4:08am Zulu, 8/18/06

In that quiet place . . .

In that quiet place, you can see forever
In my quiet place, I have great peace
In your quiet place, I hope for you such
In their unquiet place, I find desolation

In that quiet place, there is great treasure
In my quiet place, there is so much more
In your quiet place, I hope more for you
In their unquiet place, there is no one

In that quiet place, there is great solace
In my quiet place, I have great comfort
In your quiet place, I see that you care
In their unquiet place, demons hold court

In that quiet place, there are great wonders
In my quiet place, there is hope of promise
In your quiet place, I see you long for more
In their unquiet place, there is great pending doom

In that quiet place, there is great rejoicing
In my quiet place, I have elation and exultation
In your quiet place, you will find answering
In their unquiet place, there is only dread

In the aforetime…

I stand on escarpment
looking into depths either side
of great joy and great sadness
where none can follow…   and hope.

And still (in standing), I hold back
all that could destroy me, but not alone.

I drop to knees, not all my own
and seek unto Him for respite,
weeping at such great joy and sadness.

I hope in such depths, seeing,
that one may share even experience
that which holds terror or exaltation.

Only the Ancient of Days has understood
to deliver, quell, quiet and fellowship
along the eternal hallway, where only
our Creator walked, in the aforetime.

*selah*

--by RK, circa ~1999

Are you there?

You speak and I cannot hear you.
Yet again you speak; still I hear not.
And again, you speak; still yet I do not hear.
You reach not unto deep, only standing in shallows.

I weep at the quiet I hear, when you speak.
Head in hands, bowed low, I pray for you.
I cry again, deep calling unto deep.
You still yet hear not. Where are you?

I cry yet again, and nothing returns . . .
Then I whisper, "Are you there?"
Peering into darkness, I seek for any sign of you,
finding only faint images, fleeting through vapor.

My soul cries, fearing you are not.
Yet I see you, standing still, in shadow.
Hardly a dim glow, you shimmer not with life.
I turn again, unto life, hoping not, unto death.

                           *selah*
   --for the rest

Glorious to none

As we go, we fall, 'til we rise.
Too many things to focus on;
too few things to work with,
and those who will never help.

We go down, until we go up;
when all shall then know, where
the River+ passes without notice.
I see its rush, glorious to none.

I hope I see you there, not here.
Without you, it's not the same.
Find Him, when you're alone.
In clamor, He is not to be found.

Quiet places abound; go within.
Only there, true stillness, silence,
and that which does not end,
boundless, has neither beginning.

   --for Don

I see Lain, walking…

She doesn’t need to look back;
she knows I’m there, not following,
hoping she can glance, askance from then.

For now, there is only future, yet unseen;
though nevertheless, yet seen, known,
understood in all its fulness of glory.

What have you seen within? Anything?
Only deep yearning hope that you will see.
Turn your eyes inward, toward within.

Or you will only see utter destruction, for
you have not sought unto being, only existence,
where there is only awareness, not knowing.

--RK, 5/25/2007
   …for Boa (Duvet, for Lain)

Where quiet could not endure . . .

Walking to gather in joy, betimes I sink to knees,
weeping, holding her 'round the waist, in deep joy
sought after in her greatest hope
of knowing that which does not appear,
whereunto few hearts seek of Him.

. . . she sat in hope, appearing unto desire,
appealing unto one for a sharing,
who knows how few aspire to ever know.

Not declining, he salutes her heart,
asking for prayer for each unto Him only,
Who knows hearts, who seek His joy and gladness.

Hoping against hope, I still wait and hope,
for just one heart to share that which
cannot be shared, in this world of violence.

I call quietly, heart unto heart, listening,
hoping for countenance of understanding,
and eyes seeing light unspeakable,
shared in din of silence, where quiet could not endure . . .

                  --for Ann (of Walnut)
   --Thanksgiving 2005, 6:50 pm

Truth

You think you've been everywhere,
and you think you know everywhen.
I know you have not, that you care not.
Still you swagger, unto destruction.

I have not been everywhere,
but I have been almost everywhen;
which makes all the difference.
Far from then, you can see everywhere.

You've been almost nowhere, hardly anywhen.
You look at me, with empty eyes and ears,
thinking you've seen and heard it all, but no.
Hope did not die with you; hope never knew you.

I found great hope, very early in this life,
and I knew where to go, from deep within.
But what about you, you all, who know not?
Who have never sought, that which meant most.

                           *selah*
   --for K.Q.M.

It's okay

It's okay to believe, when you know it's true.
I've known for ages what must make you sad.
And it's still okay to believe; it's all true.
There is so much more you cannot know.

I speak through a computer now,
with limited inflection, though enough.
Enough to fill in your own part,
always intended, though unknown.

Now that you know, don't let her speak,
not melancholy, whose voice only detains.
There is no time; feel the new velocity,
the speeding River,+ so much a blur, almost in focus.

Synapse to synapse to synapse, without collapse.
I move closer and you implode, oblivious.
Nothing I can do, you never looked within.
And you never told me, or you can't.

What you think you see in me
is only what I hope for you,
with greater earnest than you know.
You have to know, but you have to really want it.

   --for Mike (from 1969)