Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
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  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Ray of Blue: Poems from the Higher Seeing

Ray of Blue: Poems from the Higher Seeing

Rose, Kenneth

Paperback

General Poetry

ISBN13: 9798385969944
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Nov 1 2023
Pages: 130
Weight: 0.40
Height: 0.28 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
The poems in Ray of Blue began to shape themselves from the radiance of fullness in the first weeks of the global shutdown in March 2020 brought on by the coronavirus pandemic. Their source didn't change while humanity confronted, for the first time, its fragility and excesses as a global communal event. These poems arrived as messages from the supreme source of strength and balance.

These poems are transcripts of spiritual insights and revelations, which came to me while meditating. Some of the poems are flush with symbolism and rhetorical flourishes while others are plain and didactic. Some arose as multihued jewels from the flaming treasury of the divine consciousness while others reveal truths unadorned with imagery whispered by the supreme teacher within. The verbal jewels appeared on my computer screen as they arose within me with little elaboration. In the didactic poems, I explore a meditative insight in order to amplify its wisdom.

To see these poems as revelation is to use a religious expression to suggest that poetry, in its most exalted performances, is a prophetic medium. Poetry is the seeing of the seers and the hearing of the hearers. Whether the poetry of revelation is labeled as poetry or scripture, it is a transmission from the innermost depths of Being. As such, poetry moves on lines of transmission that philosophy at its most intense sees only as a mystery arising on the other shore of its most skilled analyses. And to such heights, science cannot attain, unless it rides upon a chastened philosophy with a humble openness toward those sacred depths, which open their gates only to hearts and minds tutored in devotion and surrender to what ultimately is.

I have discovered that I can prime the pump of intuitive revelation by using metrical forms. In The Cloud Stairs, I wrote lines of eight syllables, as is usual in much of Sanskrit poetry (but without noting stress). I have found that waiting for words to arrive under this limitation stills the mind and chastens its fabulist movements. Soon, with the void of silence, syllables appear as revelations of the primordial wisdom, which has guided us from before the dawn of consciousness.

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