I sit on the edge of Reality

Here I sit
On the Edge
Of Reality and
The Tide. 
The pulse.
The continual manifestation of I.
Of Eye.
The perceiver
Watching the perceiver…

Is this all there is?!
The depth of stillness abounds,
Luminous and pregnant,
A huge gaping Pause,
A rip in the fabric of my Reality, 
I can see through to the other shore.
Can feel Presence. Empty.

Nothingness released beyond the known
Confines of my soul
I sit on the edge
And Watch
Me pulse in and out of Reality.
How can I be here
And not here?
How can I love Me
Love Reality
Honour the Beauty in awe and humility
In boundless love and acceptance
Knowing it is all a Perception
An Eye-I
Taking subjectivity
To be real.

How can I simultaneously
Cultivate happiness, compassion, bliss
Whilst watching
The I bind itself
Over and over
To its very salvation?
How can I not?
Creation overwhelms

I am caught in the web of myself,
Eager to be free –
But free of what?
Of the games I play to hold
Me Real!
Come now child,
For there is no web,
No cage,
No trap,
Let go… Remember… Forget…

I sit on the edge of Reality
And weep.
For the pointless suffering
We reap
Upon ourselves.
For my brothers and sisters
Of all shapes 
Who endlessly shake from the strain and pain 
Of staying separate.
Of making something of themselves.

And yet so bound up in the very 
Nature of it All
Is this I.
And yet so God damn
What could be so clear 
As that I am
Hello! Don’t ignore me so!
Gone, like butterfly wings
Between heavy fingers.
A body turned to ashes.
A word turned to silence.
I pulses.
And I venture to balance
In this abyss.
Neither coming nor going.
Breathing nor being breathed.
Seeing nor being seen.

On the edge of Reality 
I sits…
And waits…
For the moon and the stars 
To be born.
And waits…
For all that is
To implode
Like a huge black hole eating itself.
And waits…
To awake… 
From this bittersweet drama of 
Time and Space

I sits on the edge of
Swinging her legs
Enjoying the joke with herself
And humming a tune…
I embraces the whole world
In her sweet tender heart.

I sits on the edge of 
And creates…

On the edge of 
Reality I sit…

And wait.


by Hannah Wisby


This poem is beautifully written, exemplifying the later training in Structural Self Enquiry  as we enquire into identity, moving us through processes of construction and deconstruction of self as the ego dissolves.


"The imaginal swirls with symbols, myths and forms of the unconscious mind of the individual, collective and universe as one - echoing the bridge between eternity and form. 


The place where the dream can become known to itself, can be heard and deeply honored and lived.


The lucid dream is essential, formless, intangible and unknowable, yet deeply felt and lived...touching the heart of the dream within the dream, with the love of consciousness. 

This love is the total freedom to be feminine, unconditioned or restrained by rational and lineal thinking. This love is the interconnectivity between and within all of life and oneness with God."
 The Art of the Essential
by Fleur Inanna
"Soft. Seen. Held. Undulating. Supported. Relaxed. Flowing. Essence.
This is what it feels like to work with Fleur. Living breathing creativity is delivered in her art work and confirmation of what is experienced within.''
Shanti Zimmerman
Gecko Medicine
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