Subject: Perfect Action Object
Date: Mon, 9 Apr 2001 01:29:10 -0500


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Perfect Action Object

Limbic excellence with a quick tongue
Darted an eye out the window.
Calm down came as the mental life questions
Returned to the heart.
The body is burning sweat.
Deep fast breaths surging in with a witness to tension.
Relaxation is needed for speed.
The intensity of the focus
Sharpens the movements of rage.
Flashes in the imagination.
The energy formations are released.
The occult book of modern overlook
Voiced the idea of feeding off the energy.
Opponent's anger.
Perception to flick the switch.
Intention forces the drill when power is sought.
The spark comes spontaneously.
Limbic excellence explodes through the body.
Watch, as the thoughts are gone
Too fast to see the body move.
I could push my through,
Or snap the whip in relaxation.
Power comes from change.

I could sense the coming accident minutes before it occurred.
I could sense the reaction to the shadow images on the screen.

Shakti smiled with the safety of mother Durga
Go on and enter the depths
Scream for the water in the fire.
No stone can be unaccepted.
Primitive nature exposed to the light.
Transformation forms broad adaptation.
Training the voice to project
To yell unsung adrenaline.

The unaltared world
It's secular narrowing
To the mental passages of testing.
Physical disciplines lost and engendered.
Emotional cultivation lost in practicality.
Abstract distinctiveness collapsing
To enjoy life.
What more could you ask?

Returning to dashboard computing
Out the door of her manifestation to a quiet room.
She exhaled forward bend.
Inhaling the flow of movement legs,
Exhaled up the spine,
Rolling back
Lengthening forward
She dissolved into deep tranquility.
The past memories returned.
Uncontrollable sobs erupted
Rippling her face with suppression.
Fear gripped her breath
And teared her eyes.
Deep witness wondered with a quiet joy,
What is this?

The vision came from the higher ranges.
Words spoke.
The past churned up in the kriya.
I remembered your adoption,
The alcohol in the family,
The emotional turmoil,
The pain of your brother and father fighting,
The emotional adaptation,
The dance of today,
The communication through
Emotive turmoil,
The controlling confusion,
Demanding focus from the other,
Use of the beauty and movement
Attracting the gaze,
Emotively harmonizing the body.
Times are good.
The past is gone.
You have changed.
You danced it out.

The emotional integration was unseen
In the spiritual experience of the story.
Lost with the limbic incarnation
I could see Shakti
And she shone on all around with her love.
Joy of victory,
The suffering over suffering over
And peace established with the permanence
Of death.
Compassion flowering tastes in the air.
I felt light and flew with springs and leaps,
Looking to the soul cloud in the sky drifting.
The broad spaces of akasha awakened.
The abhinaya emerging.
 Taking to myself with a glance at my reflection.

Riding the crest of an expanding business
Into the long hours of the night
They worked.
Habituated to obey,
To serve.
Her first thought,
The joys of labor.
Shakti flowed out and secretly moved them
So easy to see in the light of her love.
The memory returned of the death.
Father came as the representative of  truth
Clinging to some known semblance in the transition.
They would know only her coming,
And in their habit follow her to the sun.

Sterling Hart

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