It was not until the third day
of being deep in the wild
With no one to talk to
Nothing to eat and nowhere to find comfort,
With the sun baking my body,
the birdsong drawing me
into a presence shared by the trees…

I catch whiffs of my animal scent
And hear my creaturely groaning
And watch the convoy of memories, ideas
And all manner of thought forms
pass across the vast desert of
mind cracking open…
turning inside out

And the ants investigate my naked body,
the flies relentlessly inspect all the orifices,
And I swat and agitate
And move over there and lie down
Sit, stand, sing, pray, sit, lie, fiddle, fidget, talk to myself…
Until… no more. No more running.

Silent still surrender
Breaks through the crust of control
red hot magma spilling over the landscape of mind.

scorching submission
Humbled prostrations
At the greatest altar there is
Wild nature holding up
The mirror of truth
The all-seeing “I”
the one who is at play everywhere

Emerges into the forest
To ask the questions
That can only be answered now
I have shut the fck up
And sat the fck down
to finally be present to What Is.

And so it begins,
The rare questions bubble forth
The ones that pierce
through walls of identity
And excuses… And protection..

What was?
what will be?
Delusion or awakening?
Lie or truth?
Fear or love?


To Quest is to face the questions
of the Soul
Full frontal
No defences
Splayed open.
Going all the way
to the centre of the centre

Now, my ego is scarred
The arrows landed deep…
And there is nothing more to do
Then live the answers to those questions
And listen deeply for the replies.

Nothing more.

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Also published on Medium.

Jiro Taylor

Author Jiro Taylor

I'm a mystic, artist and founder of Flowstate. My jam is connecting with the source of life and joining its flow.

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