After that first photo-flash in mind <br />that signalled that there beyond where, might be <br />a poem waiting to be formed; <br />and there followed, that strange mixture in the mind <br />of awe, surrender, thrill, and wonderment; <br />and as the mind, now as obedient servant <br />beyond the asking, brought the building stuff <br />for this new, strange construction (though not, I noted, <br />in the order that these would be used) – <br /> <br />after all this, and the poem now on paper, <br />I walked to the front door; and stood; and looked; <br />looked like a child looks, and expects to look, <br />seeing the world as gift; as ever fresh; <br />no thought, no wish, the mind drained, grateful, of all thought <br />except the awareness of just – being allowed to be – <br />as the impressions flooded in, the senses sensed, <br />watched, as all the – all – passed through <br />without a judgment needed, made; <br /> <br />and that portion of my mind <br />now free to think or not to think, <br />superb in that peace that comes with freedom, <br />made the connection which <br />was not intellect, but knowledge – <br />pure knowledge which was <br />almost silent, wordless worship of that 'that' <br />which is beyond name and form, yet known - <br /> <br />'this, this, is bliss itself; this present self is bliss'.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0020-bliss/
