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A Piece of Reflective Material

Part One: The train outbound towards Yalding (Kent) - 15 December 2001

See the Miracle of Light, painting this December morning landscape

The light is everything
The light is where it all begins
Light which penetrates through the frayed curtain of Separation
And permeates my brain
Until I cannot stay the same

The sky is saying:
'Today you are in meditation-
'Today is a time for Full Immersion-
'Regardless of what story version
'What chapter you begin from-
'Behold, the luminous sphere of Eternity
'Which is Now Here
'Vast- and always prescient...'

Deep in my mind I know
My physical temporariness is a fact
The train is now gathering momentum
Relentless force and purpose.
Back then, in a station, a middle-aged woman suddenly spoke into her mobile phone.
Telling someone where she was.
Now her face looks tired, exhausted.
Whereas an older one opposite her
looks bright- alert to this moment.

The train attacks the Void,
Piercing future space
Throwing it all behind us.
All the mobile phones and all the messages in this world
Will be left behind, falling away
But all these shapes, colours, e.g. icing sugar patches of frost
Are singing a new beginning.

A green field sloping with the rhythm of our rolling by,
Sloping towards its long, breather-hole ditch.

Another green field. People have craved drugs
To see the miracle and be at one with IT.
Appreciation stands in the middle of this day
Like a giant block of hashish
And I warm up a corner with a flame of awareness
Crumble off a piece
Breathe in its succulent aroma.

Another field, occupied by sheep
Old buildings with quaint conical roofs.
Do sheep need drugs? No. They do not travel
On tube trains, nor have aspirations to enlightenment.
They just absorb the yellow, green, brown white and blue spaces
With immediacy
Without question....

Fourth Page, Fourth Dimension
That which is beyond Time and Space.
That is Consciousness, wanting only to know itself.


Part Two: the Train Homebound Towards Victoria


In the dark, south London is looming
In row upon row of blocks of flats
Thousands of apertures of lights.
And with these, a recollection of a conversation at work
When Francis said 'Yes, I travel by cycle
And I have a piece of reflective material....'
And I said 'I travel in cycles
And have a piece of reflective material in my brain...'


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