February 13, 2013 by Gavriel's Muse

Alone / Solo

I came into this world alone
naked, homeless…
Solitary in the light,
alone in the dark
lurking the shadows,
Cuz everyone lives alone!
Alone with himself,
Alone in his shell,
solitary as the boat
pioneering a vast ocean;
Sometimes accompanied
at times, in the leisure,
sometimes long periods
and others less so,
but always alone inside,
alone to my destination,
lost in my fears
because nobody hears
the void that shuts me,
alone until the hereafter…

Yo vine solo a este mundo
desnudo, sin abrigo…
Solitario de la luz,
solo en la penumbra
acechando entre las sombras
¡Porque cada quien vive solo!
solo consigo mismo,
solo en su concha,
solitario como un barco
pionero del vasto océano;
A veces acompañado
a ratos, en el ocio,
a veces ratos largos
y otras veces no tanto,
pero siempre solo por dentro,
solo hasta mi destino,
perdido en mis temores
porque nadie me oye,
solitario hasta el mas allá…

…Alone in the park…

January 16, 2013 by Gavriel's Muse

Alma Mácula / Taint Soul

Exasperated by the diatribe of erudition
I began to speculate, strictly calmed
in a sarcastic word of the poetic treasury,
always from the litany of an archetype
gaunt and decrepit nearby ostracism
the more I looked for the perfect erudition
and made of this limbic space a necessity
uniting all my effort into the bio-quantum
toiled into plating the smaller inner voices
of the rather furtive Self, godlike dweller of heaven,
determined to paint the sky with black letters
infamous but constant turned in the abstract
despite my visage, unexpected and incipient
fetched in the confines of the twilight of knowing …

Exasperado por la diatriba de la erudición
comencé a conjeturar, estrictamente calmo
en una palabra sarcástica del erario poético,
siempre desde la letanía de un arquetipo
enjuto y decrépito cercano al ostracismo
mientras mas buscaba la erudición perfecta
e hice de este espacio límbico un menester
aunando todo mi esfuerzo en el bioquantum
afanado en argentar las diminutas voces internas
y un tanto furtivas del Yo celícola y deiforme,
empecinado en pintar el cielo con letras negras
infausto pero constante, devenido abstracto
a pesar de mi semblante inopinado e insipiente
rebuscado en los confines del crepúsculo del saber…

The soul is likes a water candle…

January 9, 2013 by Gavriel's Muse

Cosmic Umbilicus / Ombligo Cósmico (Count 20)

I arrived intact at the mansion of duality
at that crossroad beyond the shadows
where the universe is stalking pathways
joining between heaven, earth and sea

Awakening from those days, I could realize
that the sun hid the stars with its radiance
and even the very eternity had its own destiny
in a thin golden thread that bonded us equal

Beyond the summit of tempests
I am spectator of the great ocean of stillness
I am a visionary of my new domain from afar
infinite within the gap between black and white

And at the sum of everything I only envision a rose
in a silver pennon next to another fine thread
flowing from my being, transmutable in pathways
slightly passing across the gloom…

At time’s end, I’m and I’m not so unlike anything
I am a part of the earth, the air, the water and the fire,
I am the day and the night, dusk and dawn
I am the bottom of time that has not been lost…

Magically immemorial, ignoring the abstract
from my very own reckless abstractions, where
I am and didn’t even know beyond doubt, that
I am an infinitesimal part of the great cosmic umbilicus….

Llegué intacto a la mansión de la dualidad
en la encrucijada mas allá de las sombras
donde el universo va asechando caminos
uniéndose entre el cielo, la tierra y el mar.

Al despertar de los días me pude dar cuenta
que el sol tapaba a los astros con su brillo
y hasta la misma eternidad tenia su destino
en un fino hilo de oro que nos iguala y nos une

Mas allá de la cumbre de las tempestades
soy espectador del gran océano de la quietud
soy visionario de mi nuevo dominio en la lejanía
infinito en la distancia entre lo blanco y lo negro.

Y en la suma de todo solo vislumbro una rosa
en un pendón de plata al lado de otro fino hilo
que mana de mi ser, transmutable en caminos
que pasan levemente a través de la penumbra

Al final del tiempo, soy y no soy tan distinto del todo
soy una parte de tierra, de aire, de agua y de fuego,
soy el día y la noche, el crepúsculo y la alborada
soy el fondo del tiempo que no se ha perdido

Mágicamente inmemorial ignorando lo abstracto
desde mis propias abstracciones temerarias
en donde soy y ni siquiera se mas allá de las dudas
que Soy una infinitesimal parte del gran ombligo cósmico….

Note: After a discussion with a friend I decided to write 20 poems (this is count 20 and the final) which will take you into a Shamanic journey put down into poetry. These are not teachings nor do I expect the reader to learn anything, but if you do, beware of that gift that you possess and put it to good use…

Stone in Balance, If you want to know more just ask!

October 25, 2012 by Gavriel's Muse

Illusions or delusions? The Light Stokers

We live this duality of the Self and the Shell. Body is an illusion that we tend to enjoy, yet at times weights an entire world…this leads to the most amazing situations in our path. We can’t scape the synchronicity of the Universe, so we see those perceptions from fear…

We fear feelings, we fear emotions and that doesn’t allow us to see clearly our own path nor properly embrace and interpret what we clearly perceive. One day perhaps we’ll be ready to fully embrace that gift and detach from this illusion….

The laws of the Universe are indeed simple but we make them look complex….

The Light Stokers

Forge of indigo minds in a limbo,
So much confusion of light from all directions,
Awakening from the root, uprooted from their origins,
A time is rising made of all things.

Muddy swirl gathered from storms,
Never mind, everyone is looking for truth
Following a path that leads away from everything,
Sinking deeper into their darkness.

Answers without reason shine exalted
And a hungry crowd was drowned in gluttony,
As the wind was making with illuminated leaves,
Heading off anguish, fear and torment…

With eyes open in the duality of dew and time,
Caught on the foliage of hawthorns and dungs,
Always lurking for all that is brilliant but is not gold,
As their souls seek some redemption…

Always hunting an endless spiral,
Stokers of an extinguished light since the ancients,
Ensuring the renaissance of the Originals,
Thirsty in their essence for they are true!