Archive for the ‘1984’ Category

1984-07-01

Sunday, July 1st, 1984

Germany never died,
though all of her youth perished twice
against her fate and history.
Their cells and forms survived,
and their beauty and their eyes
in the sisters and lovers they left behind.
And it’s from the ashes again, that they’ve formed,
and from those whose tears fell like rain
on the soil where they laid themselves down.
From these now rise her sons, again,
as the grass grows in springtime
into the sunlight of this world;
shining and strong and beautiful.

gallagher
01 jul 84
Rajneeshpuram

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1984-07-02

Monday, July 2nd, 1984

So I began the day by finding strength
by deciding Bhagwan’s trip had crossed some line
past which I wouldn’t go.

I`Il pull myself back, and choose what I will
and I will not accept
any more Zen mumbo-jumbo.

But, in the end, the real strength of the day
came again from Bhagwan in an article I read

He said that accepting playfulness
was the only way we should approach this life
that willfulness and pain are inseparable
without end

And more people came to me, easily, on this one day
than I met in all of last year’s festival
my smiles seemed to find some deeper source
and the day became a realization and a meditation
of the magic of this man

gallagher
02 july 84
Rajneeshpuram, OR

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1984-07-02

Monday, July 2nd, 1984

Heart full, morning light, soft music, in a hall
sitting on the floor with ten thousand
– deep into the wind, I seek.

Rajneesh may not endure against man’s urge
to make idols and dogma.

He may be human … he may be divine …
he may be anything …
it just doesn’t matter.

The things he’s said
and this buddhafield he’s made,
they bring me again and again
to the spiritual razor edge.
He pushes me deep into the merging of
spirit and action, play and love
and the humbling revelation
that all of this works and is happening
in spite of any ability of mine
to understand it….

Maybe he has only watered the land
and we credit him the flowers
maybe he is God come to realization in man
playing on this stage with
its imperfect props.
What does it matter, these?

That I can be here renewing my deep springs
by opening to him and this
and being drawn into whatever learnings
may come to me,

only these matter.

gallagher
02 july 84
Rajneeshpuram, OR

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —