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Prose of the Spirit

Autor : Cristián Sarmiento



Smashwords Edition © 2017



From the original in Spanish: Pregones del Espíritu



To communicate with the author

Email: sarmientocristian@outlook.es

Web: www.cristiansarmiento.cl





Property certificate : Cristián Sarmiento Cisterna



1st Edition English: December 2016



No part of this publication, including the cover design, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, chemical, mechanical, optical, recording or photocopying, without the prior permission of the publisher.



Preface

Since 2014 a series of writings and ideas appeared without any control by the mind, instructing a silent invitation to write them on paper. At the same time, this period coincides with an awakening of identity from individuality to collectivity. It has not been at all simple, different layers of energy have appeared through the consciousness begging for attention and compassion to feel them in depth. This book has a more philosophical spirit and investigator of both life and what appears freely through consciousness. Perhaps a more poetic sense of the experience that was emerging.

This book was quietly resting since 2016, I don't know the reason why, however, in general terms I could comment that it is the third part of a trilogy that begins with "Conversations with an Owl", continues with "Song of a Hermit" and ends with these prosas.

Trusting in what one feels and manifesting the experience of consciousness has a value that involves sharing what is inside you, specifically in your heart. At times, the sadness of some moments of "dark night of the soul" appears; in other alleyways, the depth of personal research and the free interpretation of what is born from the creative potential of each human being.

Creativity allows us to re-evaluate our own beliefs and be aware of them to initiate the process of personal choice. We are the creators of our experience! Although we don't have control over the results. Interesting paradox!

We must observe our attachment to nostalgia and depression, as well as the hidden beliefs about our separation from life. Much of it is illusions, as Buddha mentioned 2,500 years ago.

In our awakening process, different artistic, creative and expressive discoveries can appear. Have the courage to share it, have the conviction of feeling who you really are

Maybe your essence is closer than you feel than you think.



Kindest regards, Cristián



For the conscious presence that dwells within each human being.



Buddha's Third Eye



Valley between corners,

Splendor of sacred mischiefs.

Object of cults and explanations,

Statue of ignorance and canonizations.

Kaleidoscope of visions,

Memories and sacred oppressions.

Light of transcendence,

Mirror of consciousness.

Photon of immanence,

Seduction of decency.

Singing of monks and Buddhists,

Writers and artists incarnations.

Soul of sincere seeker,

Meeting with a true blacksmith.

Way of a thousand hopes,

Transmigration of peace and remembrances.



Awareness of the Presence



So much for worrying about yourself,

Individuality....

Self-importance.....

Power......

Your body is a multitude of minerals that are combined with each other.

Without vital breath he can't dance,

Without the breath of life, he can't sing,

Without the vital breath he can't express.

Are you sure you're just the body?

What keeps your body alive is similar to what your friend, relative or neighbor's body keeps...

It is similar to what keeps an animal, flower or leafy vegetation alive.....

What you are,

It's consciousness itself,

An energetic vibration,

Coming from the unit...

Where there is no individuality or fear,

Where love sustains existence,

Where compassion sustains the presence,

Where peace holds substance.

That's what you are,

Absolute part of the unit...

Absolute part of divinity...

Absolute part of totality....



Roads of the Self



Innocence in the hands of a sinner,

Tenderness of a singing cat,

Inert sense of passion,

Nipple of heartfelt mistake.

Rodent of noble sincerity,

Terror of posthumous equity.

Truth on Lucifer's lips,

Action on Jennifer's bodies.

Inquisitive judge's light,

Arrogance of abusive executioner.

Awareness of atrocious mistake,

Path of royal bilocation.

Encounter of God the Redeemer,

Healing of delusional dementor.



The century comes to an end



You don't know love yet?

How long have you been at it?

Years, centuries, eons...

Do you have any ideas?

Have you ever wondered why?

Or are you just running after money...

You decide, no one can do it for you; that's free will.

To lose that option is simply to finish one's life off or raffle it to the worst bidder?

Why don't you know him?

It's not just an intention is an essence,

It's not just an expression, it's an aroma,

It's not just a condition, it's a state.

Why don't you know him?

It is simply covered or if you prefer hidden or masked...

For what reason? By whom?

Your family, your environment, your society,

Just excuses......

Your arrogance, your infernal desire, your fears and your pride...

Do you know them?

Did you get into them?

Do you know his feelings?

Do you know their paths?

There's nothing more than that, it's that simple.

Behind it all and other herbs,

There's that, simply called,

Ability to love and feel,

Dare yourself....



Sailing



The tide being sincere,

The Redeemer cultivated energy,

Smooth and smooth,

He stopped sinister detractor.

The tide being sincere,

It reflected the true nature,

Breathing in deep wholeness,

Giving away the end of sadness.

The tide being sincere,

It allowed the alchemist to break in,

A gift of sacred engineer,

Tenor of sweet pianist.

The tide being sincere,

The whole cosmos undertook movement,

With friendly talent,

Of careful architect.

The tide being sincere,

Between sensations and feelings,

Light of sacred understanding,

Confession of humble sinister.

The tide being sincere,

Hemingway found the compromise,

From instilling peace into the submissive,

And wisdom to the reddish.





Unconscious conscious



I don't know what's wrong with me,

I keep thinking,

I'm not hungry,

I can't sleep,

I can't focus.

I can feel flames in my heart,

Terrors in my limited mind,

Stupor in ecclesiastical creeds,

Cobras in the coccyx.

I appreciated you,

I looked at you,

I watched you.

I saw you,

And the world ended up exploding.

The classroom and its knowledge,

My parents and their challenges,

Life and its fears

Goethe's Faust.

Life subtly changed its dimension,

The day began to shine,

The night lit every soul,

The Nile swept the mind,

Love shines forever.



Everything is interconnected



I found an absence of meaning,

Walking, creating and ultimately,

Also silently existing.

The resinous oil,

He invaded the breathing reefs,

Dividing Al Kidhr's messages,

In mythologies of difficult translation.

Twilight and sobbing arise from the lung,

Pride and endurance from the heart,

Evasion and questioning from the kidney.

Tired of looking for an explanation,

Devotion appeared,

Silent door,

Deep into the heart.



The soft Raco



Winds of change,

They blow on the prairie,

Removing the hurt soul,

Wrapping exposed meat.

Tones of silence,

They allow birth,

Romantic emperor,

Sarcastic apprentice.

Winds of change,

They whisper in my ears,

Divine voice chords,

Seas of orgasmic color.

Tones of silence,

They allowed the change,

Opportunity of some,

Disregard for others.



Message from Wagner



Cradle of romantic traveller,

Stupor of languid host.

Numb phlegm cancer,

Tunisian-tongue grudge.

Icon of patriarchal power,

Lies in the monastic world.

Fear of inquisitive singing,

Arrogant frame fire.

Throne of wavering power,

Voice of oscillating dimensions.

Water of shining peace,

“Flying Dutchman’s” light.



Sex or making love?



It's all over now,

Way ahead of schedule.

It's all over now,

Way ahead of schedule.

It's all over now,

Long before I knew it.

Momentary pleasure,

He quenched any seduction.

The instinct to reach,

He sprayed Krishná's flute.

Between thoughts and needles of the East,

The flame of ecstasy stagnated.

Between caresses and desires,

Kashmir's phallus is inflamed.

Between lips and promises,

The holy Olympus flooded.

Between attempts and looks,

The potential beginning or the dreaded sunset.



Daily walk



React stupefied,

Full of feeling,

No movement,

Anxious for discovery.

Same thing again?

The same person,

Same place,

Similar argument.

What's the point of all this?

Life is a circle,

Life is completely unconscious,

Life is a certain decency.

I'm flabbergasted,

Tired and overwhelmed,

Beaten and distressed,

Imprisoned and imprisoned.

I'm about to turn myself in,

Out of the ring,

Pulling on the rope,

To deceive me into this forgiveness.

I don't give more,

The body vibrates,

Somebody's clenching my neck,


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