In a glance,

a look,

a stare,

a gaze,

is a moment  where the finite and the infinite meet –

a co-creative buss with the divine,

entranced by a bustle of the heart.

 

Peering, we see ourself in the orbs of another,

everything exposed,

nothing nuanced

in the wide open spaces of finite

and the narrow corners of the infinite;

where and when nothing and everything become one,

where and when nothing and everything make sense,

where and when fate and destiny meet free will and choice,

where and when these paradoxes are suspended,

where and when the greatest suspense is in these paradoxical points.

 

It is a copulation,

a conception,

a birthing of the now

in the gaze.

Time, in all its forms, takes a humble seat

and there is only the moment –

the moment in a gaze.

Some call it a holy moment:

some-things happen,

some-things shake loose,

some-things come undone,

some-things restore and renew –

the some-things,

the no-things,

the every-things

dissolve, fractalize, and absorb

into the holographic

oneness of unabiding nondual symmetry.

It is where and when unity is realized,

it is where and when spirit becomes inspired,

it is where and when everything ineffable is described,

to the tune of soul-speak.

 

There is a song

sung in the eyes

radiating harmoniously and openly

whatever it is

that is behind them.

Do you hear that song in your eyes?

Do you sing that song in mine?

Steadfast in the journey of us

we dissolve into the melodic fairytale

even if only for the dash of an instant.

 

This epic adventure is spun in the look,

a myth only the moment can tell,

a story that suggests there is no story

a fantasy designed in the imaginative eye.

We read the entirety of one, of the one, of oneness.

It is truth in the eyes of another, when you see yourself

it is truth in the your vision, when you see the Self.

 

Its fleeting appearance is infinite, eternal and bold.

It crushes all antagonism, all separation.

It is a unified gaze,

locked and loaded.

It is explosive in it is tranquility

and tranquil in it is explosiveness.

It is a launch-pad and crash-pad.

It takes us everywhere and nowhere,

and around again, and around again, and around again.

It is the home of the soul and the soul of the home,

a reservoir of the richest regalities,

a volcano of vibrant vitality.

It expresses the love of being

and reveals the being of love,

the beloved,

and the lover.

They are one and done,

wrapped and twirled,

twisted and commingled

in a dance,

a cosmic boogie,

a divine disco,

a human drama

unfolding in the motion of the stillness.

 

The gaze,

the connection,

the viewing,

the look,

reveals all

leaving nothing unsaid, undone, unheard, unfelt –

it is the souls’ satoris.

It is a kaleidoscopic view

into the kaleidoscope

of life’s mystery,

of death’s serenity –

in the scope of divinity,

in the breadth of infinity,

for all of eternity…