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THE ONE

The sun blinks…yawns, then rises

as the moon falls to earth–a dying rose before the last petal drops–

passing the torch to another day.

The eyes of Earth open

giving witness as Life moves in and out

…arises, subsides

as bird, leaf, butterfly,

the lowly rock, robin, human;

exalted or reviled. 

The One becomes the many and masquerades as form,

each thread weaving a tapestry of existence.

Interconnected. Vanishing. Replenished.

Chariots of shooting stars spin across the night sky

into the Cosmos

between the planets, beyond galaxies.

A glowing halo of conscious space is awakening

becoming aware of itself.

The “I” of Infinity…..

through You.

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EXPRESS TRAIN

Ye who come here;

As you peruse these pages,

view them as riding an Express Train through Time–

the same train we are all on.

When the train stops

and the Conductor turns around to tell you:

“This is where you get off”,

it doesn’t matter if you are riding first class or coach.

When your journey ends….

will you know who you truly are?

 

With hands untied and held in yours, 

you free me,

release me from the bonds of Earth.

You be me

With no between between us.

The fallacy of you and me,

of all the forms that make a “we”

disintegrates… eventually

as does the world through which we see 

creating our false identity

but fails to find and fails to see   

the portal where we  merge into Eternity.

The pattern again.

As never before

I feel the threat of loneliness loom

and the lure of the sensual ephemeral pleasures

that may appease the shallow fragmented self

that seeks escape to numb the self 

that clamors for truth.

Such a vacuum lingers.

Passionless. Without a country,

belonging nowhere and to nobody; 

for attachment forms strings

that pull we puppets.

Have I been asleep for 20 years or merely in a stupor?

When I probe into my inner storehouse,

there is nothing but the echo of a confused cry 

tethered within the cell of a false identity

 reverberating against the musty darkness

…then disappears.

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BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT…

Coming soon – The upcoming release of Ronaye’s  book by British publisher in London, England; to be available on Amazon.

                                    

                 …with a broken wing
Expressions of
the Human Spirit

poems by Ronaye Hudyma

Description:

Whether contemporary, classic, or peppered with Elizabethan eloquence, this profound ensemble of 130 poems is not stationary. They move as if conducted with a maestro’s baton –fluid between the euphoria of life and love, the drama, the anguish of death and loss, with every nuance of human emotion spilling upon the pages.

They are poignant words written with the transparency of youth, gathering maturity and experience, evolving to wisdom, into the spiritual realm.

This is not just poetry. There are a million stories in each poem. Once for each of us. From the teenager discovering their individuality, the young adult challenged by relationships and the world around them, to the Elder denizens of Earth, who cherish their memories as veterans of life, this is a book to be read and reread, a keepsake to console, embrace and affirm your recognition of the truth within yourself that is already there.

 

 

THE EMPTY 

A child again,

I am bewitched, bemused

by the discoveries of life,

amazed at the phenomena
of consciousness and existence.

Like a bud that suddenly bursts into bloom,
what smoldered in the shadows
looms into spontaneous illumination
as the mystery unfolds:

Forms drift in then evaporate
Yet I remain.
It comes; Arises.
All personhood dissolves.

I am here;
a space of clear seeing
intense, keen, alert,
concentrating upon itself
projecting outward
yet turning in to focus on that which focuses;
Filled with Being–
Pure Consciousness.
The Empty has come to claim me.
There is nothing else.

MEDITATION

In the darkness

a sun sinks down

through jungles of imagination

mired in mind

through wastelands of “why?”

In the daylight

a moon rides high

along a palpitating phrase

through saturated emptiness

where winds blow pollen

on a suspended seed.

 

The fear has passed

and my passion has burnt away

but what remains is like

the contentment of a confession.