Sometimes the highest act of intelligence is playing the fool…
Sometimes the greatest exercise of power, flying beneath the radar -
Acting as though one were powerless;
Playing the part so well, one becomes convinced it is true…
True intelligence is not flaunted -
For the attempted display of such could only be an expression of ignorance,
Ego clamoring for validation of its illusory superiority.
True intelligence need not be proven -
Existing separate of identity,
Unable to be possessed, elusive to the clinging mind…
The highest of intelligence is already ours;
And by attaching to it, we are the fool.
True power is not detectable, nor to be contained -
Extending beyond our mind’s constraints of time & space,
Slipping through our hands ever so faster as we try to grasp for it.
True power defies expression in any moment
We attempt to create by segregating any experience out of eternity
And the whole of the universe.
Nearly all we’ve called power is merely force -
The most infantile sparks of power expressed in manners infinitely
Dwarfed by their source.
The ultimate power is already ours;
And by claiming it, we lose it.
This life is nothing, but the expression of power through intelligence -
Its management through consciousness,
An ever-unfolding drama.
We are but actors, the acted -
The writers, the written…
So cleverly convinced of our ignorance -
Oblivious to the roles we’re playing,
Are choosing to play, have chosen to play,
Have been chosen to play.
Who among us can claim to know anything -
When the mind can know nothing,
Relative to all there possibly could be to know…
Who before us has self-proclaimed awareness -
When all there is to be aware of
Evades logic, thought capture…
But you & I -
A shard of God’s expression
Observing but a fragment of itself -
All-knowing,
And always forgetting…
We trick ourselves so well…
Who we think we are is but story -
No more true than the fading cloud in the sky,
A perception of consciousness,
No more tangible than the air it appears & disappears into.
How petty we’ve made ourselves out to be -
Mistaking ourselves as separate from everything we see,
Isolating ourselves through identity in a grand facade…
How brilliant, intelligence -
Creating such a rich drama…
How comic & tragic -
Our struggles for power,
When we could be not anything but it’s manifestations.
So amusing, this game -
Our striving for validation,
Though in essence, all has always & will be complete…
A million masks we wear,
Having failed to recognize ourselves every time;
Playing each part to perfections -
So beautifully persuasive -
All are not but facts of the same…
A million expressions of intelligence,
A million extensions of power…
This, we know -
Yet must deny;
Interfering not, with our Divine order -
Honoring the highest within us,
Through honoring our lowest -
Deeply knowing there is no division.
The wisest need not speak -
For they possess no knowledge we all do not;
Exercising power by allowing its perception in silence.
And the foolish, must -
For they possess no knowledge the wise do -
Demonstrating intelligence through its absence.
Yet,
We are the wise;
And, we are the fools.
It cannot be any other way.
