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WAY OF THE SEVEN STARS


Response To That Final Question:

Ignorance is the Bane of Man.
At a distance removed,
Dimly remembered, and
Still not seen distinct,
But yet somehow felt;
What we do sense
Is not reality; is not the Real Thing.
This World is hologram.
Then; for lucid sleep;
For it's just a dream
Within another dream
And we are not awake.

Seven Stars' Song of Revelation

Ignorance is a jail where no escape
Is possible but through knowledge.
Don't fear nor spurn. Dare to learn:

Assent to and accept this world as it is
Before attempting ascent to any world
Aspired to or wished for. Life's glorious!

That That Is can be known but by few.
Not space, not time, not gravity exists;
But as Extension from Field of Thought.

Be subject to neither church nor crown.

Dread naught. Disdain none: Not One!
Absent That That Is, there's Nothing.

That That Is, IS. That That's Not, IS, too.
That That's Not makes That That Is: IS.
That That Is makes That That's Not BE.

By rowing to That That Is, I become "I."
Wind + Water = Wave. As THOUGHT is
The Heart and The Nave of The Wheel.

Worlds are created from Thought alone.
That which we will do is because of that
What we are. We'll become who we are.

Charity, courtesy, civility, compassion,
Are cardinal spokes making civilization;
Chivalry forms center, hub's circle core.

IS is! Be not the slave of some other's I.
This, Creed of our Seven Stars Society;
This, The Teaching of the Seven Stars:

No man can be happy if he should choose
To be exile from his own nature and soul.
ALL IS THOUGHT ILLUMINATING BEING

Precognitive Prescient Prophetic Poetry by WILLIAM O'CONNOR

Monday, January 30, 2017

Blue Sun Series: Confluence: Verse 143

Pawns we are for these politicians;
Pieces to move in rigid formations,
Pushed in line by surly bureaucrats.
Our lives mean nothing at all to them.
Merely are we here to be of service,
To be shoved forwards into battle
For causes we barely understand
And have for us but little benefit;
Merely are we to be played,
Upon the board of life.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Blue Sun Series: Confluence: Verse 142

Among men, there's
A natural aristocracy.
Few are born with
The kiss for creativity;
The gene to challenge
Assumptions which
Everyone takes for
Granted; that had
Seem secure from;
That had been way
Past any dispute.
Honor their courage. 

Monday, January 9, 2017

Blue Sun Series: Confluence: Verse 141

Night scream call of owls seeking prey,
Hunting the hidden vermin of the day. Here we're silenced; no noble speeches
Have we, constrained by uncertainties.
Should we show who and what we are?
Should we declare what we've become;
Now we know we arrived from tomorrow.

WILLIAM O'CONNOR

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