ArKanuk
@arkanuk.bsky.social
From Stars we come, to Stars we shall return. This ancient ache of longing that's urging us to burn. To shine on and on from inside out, where illumination is a fire without any doubt.
Silence is the language of God.
All else is poor translation. ~ Rumi
All else is poor translation. ~ Rumi
December 11, 2025 at 9:43 PM
Silence is the language of God.
All else is poor translation. ~ Rumi
All else is poor translation. ~ Rumi
It is also my understanding that as one progresses in Spiritual development one becomes more inclined toward solitude - friends drift away, especially if they still make a God of their desire. It's what happens naturally; one becomes plain and simple, with more and more of less and less.
October 12, 2025 at 7:47 PM
It is also my understanding that as one progresses in Spiritual development one becomes more inclined toward solitude - friends drift away, especially if they still make a God of their desire. It's what happens naturally; one becomes plain and simple, with more and more of less and less.
"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." - Anaïs Nin
"Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change." - Dr. Wayne Dyer
"Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change." - Dr. Wayne Dyer
October 9, 2025 at 6:15 PM
"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." - Anaïs Nin
"Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change." - Dr. Wayne Dyer
"Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change." - Dr. Wayne Dyer
I write upon realities slippery surface with this my authentic pen,
flowing into the resistance of existence - I ink therefore I am
Cogito-ergo-ZOOOM
flowing into the resistance of existence - I ink therefore I am
Cogito-ergo-ZOOOM
September 8, 2025 at 7:28 PM
I write upon realities slippery surface with this my authentic pen,
flowing into the resistance of existence - I ink therefore I am
Cogito-ergo-ZOOOM
flowing into the resistance of existence - I ink therefore I am
Cogito-ergo-ZOOOM
and sometimes, feeling this is all one can do, and this ‘this’ becomes a catabasis romance, and yet a duality dirge too, an elegy of woe, and a place of exceptional Peace, where the quantum frequencies of bliss are released…
May 14, 2025 at 10:43 PM
and sometimes, feeling this is all one can do, and this ‘this’ becomes a catabasis romance, and yet a duality dirge too, an elegy of woe, and a place of exceptional Peace, where the quantum frequencies of bliss are released…
this creeping flesh
shall fade and fall as dust
from dust so made;
though carries in itself
the bloom of flower
the reach of tree,
the words a lover
once said
to me
shall fade and fall as dust
from dust so made;
though carries in itself
the bloom of flower
the reach of tree,
the words a lover
once said
to me
May 12, 2025 at 11:06 PM
this creeping flesh
shall fade and fall as dust
from dust so made;
though carries in itself
the bloom of flower
the reach of tree,
the words a lover
once said
to me
shall fade and fall as dust
from dust so made;
though carries in itself
the bloom of flower
the reach of tree,
the words a lover
once said
to me
Language is a bridge, connecting, but the bridge has a syntax you gotta' pay to getta'cross what you wanna' say; Poetry is the stream below, murmuring, reflecting many Suns; meandering modulated-sounds for each 'n everyone!
May 11, 2025 at 11:22 PM
Language is a bridge, connecting, but the bridge has a syntax you gotta' pay to getta'cross what you wanna' say; Poetry is the stream below, murmuring, reflecting many Suns; meandering modulated-sounds for each 'n everyone!
Language is a bridge, connecting, but the bridge has a syntax you gotta' pay to getta'cross what you wanna' say; Poetry is the stream below, murmuring, reflecting many Suns; meandering modulated-sounds for each 'n everyone!
May 11, 2025 at 9:13 PM
Language is a bridge, connecting, but the bridge has a syntax you gotta' pay to getta'cross what you wanna' say; Poetry is the stream below, murmuring, reflecting many Suns; meandering modulated-sounds for each 'n everyone!
There is a wish,
At least,
At last.
When none are left.
And none,
Were ever right.
Though thought,
And worry
Hurried then;
When
There was,
Everything against.
Now we wish for more,
And more,
Of less and
Less.
At least,
At last.
When none are left.
And none,
Were ever right.
Though thought,
And worry
Hurried then;
When
There was,
Everything against.
Now we wish for more,
And more,
Of less and
Less.
May 7, 2025 at 11:11 PM
There is a wish,
At least,
At last.
When none are left.
And none,
Were ever right.
Though thought,
And worry
Hurried then;
When
There was,
Everything against.
Now we wish for more,
And more,
Of less and
Less.
At least,
At last.
When none are left.
And none,
Were ever right.
Though thought,
And worry
Hurried then;
When
There was,
Everything against.
Now we wish for more,
And more,
Of less and
Less.
Rumi - "wherever you stand, be the soul of that place."
May 1, 2025 at 2:36 AM
Rumi - "wherever you stand, be the soul of that place."
‘The love of a true-friend pierces the heart and batters the head’
April 30, 2025 at 2:36 AM
‘The love of a true-friend pierces the heart and batters the head’
New Moon Mandala: a massive retooling of our synaptic pathways is occurring, often resulting in 'temper tantrums' and breaking things and other 'bad' behaviours learnt by all of our 'bad' education. Yet it is in that very process where neurons coalesce into a new flower of meaning and significance.
April 28, 2025 at 7:40 PM
New Moon Mandala: a massive retooling of our synaptic pathways is occurring, often resulting in 'temper tantrums' and breaking things and other 'bad' behaviours learnt by all of our 'bad' education. Yet it is in that very process where neurons coalesce into a new flower of meaning and significance.
civil-writes
?what does a Spiritual-Person look-like?
do they dare to look and look and see,
with an essential-self in-congruency,
or
are they just innocent victims like you and me,
lost between infinite-Love and "I'm not worthy?"
?what does a Spiritual-Person look-like?
do they dare to look and look and see,
with an essential-self in-congruency,
or
are they just innocent victims like you and me,
lost between infinite-Love and "I'm not worthy?"
April 25, 2025 at 5:42 AM
civil-writes
?what does a Spiritual-Person look-like?
do they dare to look and look and see,
with an essential-self in-congruency,
or
are they just innocent victims like you and me,
lost between infinite-Love and "I'm not worthy?"
?what does a Spiritual-Person look-like?
do they dare to look and look and see,
with an essential-self in-congruency,
or
are they just innocent victims like you and me,
lost between infinite-Love and "I'm not worthy?"
Einstein mused: "if I rode on a beam of light through the deep dark reach of space, what would I see? what would I be? would I be anyplace?" then he chuckled, stuck out his tongue, made his eyes go wide, "I'd be everywhere at once, bent toward the infinite, really deep inside."
April 21, 2025 at 8:06 AM
Einstein mused: "if I rode on a beam of light through the deep dark reach of space, what would I see? what would I be? would I be anyplace?" then he chuckled, stuck out his tongue, made his eyes go wide, "I'd be everywhere at once, bent toward the infinite, really deep inside."
if fears 'n worries are nothing but a hapless-spin, then hopes 'n wishes are its better-off kin, nonetheless they're both creating the duality-delusion we're in ...
April 20, 2025 at 8:20 PM
if fears 'n worries are nothing but a hapless-spin, then hopes 'n wishes are its better-off kin, nonetheless they're both creating the duality-delusion we're in ...
As Lorca averred: I hear the beautiful beating heart of God, in the monster of the world...
April 20, 2025 at 7:36 PM
As Lorca averred: I hear the beautiful beating heart of God, in the monster of the world...
here we are sun~bending;
we lurch in wind, whimper for the climb,
make leaf-song,
slow-swelling from Sun
drenched dirt,
the blood of longing serpents-up,
from deeper whirl'ds-turn'd
where harder-roots have
sunk
we lurch in wind, whimper for the climb,
make leaf-song,
slow-swelling from Sun
drenched dirt,
the blood of longing serpents-up,
from deeper whirl'ds-turn'd
where harder-roots have
sunk
April 13, 2025 at 9:35 PM
here we are sun~bending;
we lurch in wind, whimper for the climb,
make leaf-song,
slow-swelling from Sun
drenched dirt,
the blood of longing serpents-up,
from deeper whirl'ds-turn'd
where harder-roots have
sunk
we lurch in wind, whimper for the climb,
make leaf-song,
slow-swelling from Sun
drenched dirt,
the blood of longing serpents-up,
from deeper whirl'ds-turn'd
where harder-roots have
sunk
water as a movable-crystal, alive with many reflections, within which fractal-clusters assemble, like a snow-flake, then melt into another new glimmer of intelligent design, while easily modulated by intentional-percepts, and the numinous-fingers of planets and stars, which form the sounds, I find.
April 12, 2025 at 9:26 PM
water as a movable-crystal, alive with many reflections, within which fractal-clusters assemble, like a snow-flake, then melt into another new glimmer of intelligent design, while easily modulated by intentional-percepts, and the numinous-fingers of planets and stars, which form the sounds, I find.
we’re all bubbles of consciousness, bubbles of brilliant shimmering hues, bouncing and bullying each other around while looking for ways to merge with each other; leaking through our surface tension — life is real only then when I am bursting at the seams of what I thought reality means
April 4, 2025 at 7:32 PM
we’re all bubbles of consciousness, bubbles of brilliant shimmering hues, bouncing and bullying each other around while looking for ways to merge with each other; leaking through our surface tension — life is real only then when I am bursting at the seams of what I thought reality means
those dead-ends are just around the corner
where deep calls to deep,
that infinite-in just beyond where we sleep,
in that dream we don't have any names,
no games, no blames, neither waxes nor wanes,
no hell of flames,
a place where we'll all happily greet,
in a tunnel vision where all dead-ends meet
where deep calls to deep,
that infinite-in just beyond where we sleep,
in that dream we don't have any names,
no games, no blames, neither waxes nor wanes,
no hell of flames,
a place where we'll all happily greet,
in a tunnel vision where all dead-ends meet
April 3, 2025 at 7:16 PM
those dead-ends are just around the corner
where deep calls to deep,
that infinite-in just beyond where we sleep,
in that dream we don't have any names,
no games, no blames, neither waxes nor wanes,
no hell of flames,
a place where we'll all happily greet,
in a tunnel vision where all dead-ends meet
where deep calls to deep,
that infinite-in just beyond where we sleep,
in that dream we don't have any names,
no games, no blames, neither waxes nor wanes,
no hell of flames,
a place where we'll all happily greet,
in a tunnel vision where all dead-ends meet
death is a lover endlessly coming
thrumming the heart away
no need to fret, worry or muddle
cuddle her as I lay
fall into deep, infinite sleep
weep that I cannot stay
thrumming the heart away
no need to fret, worry or muddle
cuddle her as I lay
fall into deep, infinite sleep
weep that I cannot stay
March 28, 2025 at 9:30 PM
death is a lover endlessly coming
thrumming the heart away
no need to fret, worry or muddle
cuddle her as I lay
fall into deep, infinite sleep
weep that I cannot stay
thrumming the heart away
no need to fret, worry or muddle
cuddle her as I lay
fall into deep, infinite sleep
weep that I cannot stay
The Goatherd's Crooked Staff
Sibelius finally gave in to the seduction of despair
when for many restless nights he looked up at the
stars in the same Elysian fields where
the goatherd lay asleep
dreaming
Sibelius finally gave in to the seduction of despair
when for many restless nights he looked up at the
stars in the same Elysian fields where
the goatherd lay asleep
dreaming
March 26, 2025 at 10:24 PM
The Goatherd's Crooked Staff
Sibelius finally gave in to the seduction of despair
when for many restless nights he looked up at the
stars in the same Elysian fields where
the goatherd lay asleep
dreaming
Sibelius finally gave in to the seduction of despair
when for many restless nights he looked up at the
stars in the same Elysian fields where
the goatherd lay asleep
dreaming
awash in an ocean and ever blowing
in a veritable wind; inscrutably peregrinated then --
in a veritable wind; inscrutably peregrinated then --
March 23, 2025 at 7:26 PM
awash in an ocean and ever blowing
in a veritable wind; inscrutably peregrinated then --
in a veritable wind; inscrutably peregrinated then --
we can only imagine
as far as we've ever realized.
we can only understand
as much as awe and wonder
has risen us up...
so I wonder about you
and I'm awed in that
revelation...
your unknowns
complete me
as far as we've ever realized.
we can only understand
as much as awe and wonder
has risen us up...
so I wonder about you
and I'm awed in that
revelation...
your unknowns
complete me
March 20, 2025 at 9:11 PM
we can only imagine
as far as we've ever realized.
we can only understand
as much as awe and wonder
has risen us up...
so I wonder about you
and I'm awed in that
revelation...
your unknowns
complete me
as far as we've ever realized.
we can only understand
as much as awe and wonder
has risen us up...
so I wonder about you
and I'm awed in that
revelation...
your unknowns
complete me