That we chain ourselves through the bindings of digressive routine, soft and familiar;
We repress the movement of our own creative and naturally evolving force,
disenhancing progress of the soul,
disregarding the first law, change.
- Jerry Harris III
When we overcome insecurity,
overcome fear,
and overcome hate;
the world will know peace
and be governed by love.
-Jerry Harris III
We’re all the same force, diffracted and reflecting visions of ourselves, not necessarily good or bad, yet we often assume our role to be the highest form of “good” through the illusion of ego, attaching distorted value through the perception of difference. When we torture and enslave defenseless animals, it is digressive to say they are less valuable than humans, when ultimately they are from the same source and are of the same force, and we must accept the moral and spiritual repercussions of our actions. Violence is sometimes necessary in self defense and self preservation, but the disgraceful routine that is animal cruelty is not enacted out of necessity but out of greed and convenience. Animals are sometimes castrated and skinned alive with no sedatives or painkillers whatsoever before they reach our plate. This begs the question, what if you were in the position of the cow or what if it was someone you loved. This is a plea for awareness, a plea for reconstruction as we must evolve past our folly. It is the natural law of change, of evolution. This is not a plea to stop you from eating meat, but instead a plea for thought behind the process of how it is accrued, and foremost this is a plea that we may come together so that we may change the system and in doing so better it and ourselves as we have done so many times before: the civil rights movement, sufferage, etc.
-Jerryharris3
Meditation is best inward;
to infinte spaces,
narrow and unbounded,
dauntless and unyielding,
where unadulterated truth lies;
to the the place where all of eternity is magnified
as two lines drawing infintely closer to each other
yet never to meet,
the is and the is not;
to reach the furthest depths
of time,
of space,
of soul.
-Jerry Harris III
I knew her in a glance,
recalled soul;
her eyes were deeper than any words
or song I had ever heard,
deeper than any expanse of ocean
or river of time.
-Jerry Harris III
We are all diffracted visions of the same energy,
reflections of ourselves within each other
and everything that is.
-Jerry Harris III
Until one is in touch with their true nature,
enough so to appreciate the warmth of the sun,
the wet of the rain,
the way the light bends around the eye;
they see only partially
the magnificent vision that is unity of love, life,
diffracting and breathing all at once.
-Jerry Harris III
Sojourn to the house of life,
a wondrous dream,
the mouth short speaks,
where lovers lie and lost ones hide
till spirit takes what flesh shan’t keep.
Last light fades with each eye’s close,
when from each eye, the house doth leave,
memory stops and soul there goes
unto nature’s infinity.
-Jerry Harris III
Fragments of time
mix in with blood;
coagulation of the soul occurs
when a far off life
circulates past the delicate brain
and gently goes unrecognized.
The dermis is marked by flaking fragmentations,
occasionally falling into the eyes,
to stir glimpses of forlorn prebirth memory,
near and far,
here and gone.
-Jerry Harris III
Words are like colors; change one and you paint a different picture.
Churning in the cosmic gut;
Gold and silver turn to rust,
Dust, in the atomic rut,
Spinning out in space.
Time broods, pale,
Beneath eyes, eternal,
Beyond the veil of qualms, external,
Of eyes unglowing,
Of hearts unloved,
Of minds unknowing,
Of souls undone,
Souls astray and
Souls unsung…
-Jerry Harris III
Forgotten symphony;
too many ears have fallen deaf to your song,
echoing through every known and unknown chamber of pulse, devout.
Too many eyes have closed off,
blind to your choir of kin, children of heart,
by whose efforts, all rise and fall.
Too many voices lie mute in your harmony,
as though sentenced to incurable silence,
when even the most humdrum of murmurs can be heard in the constance of your sing,
echoing now, past, and forever more.
Revive, revive, revive, live and sing the long forgotten song!
Reflection, haunted by memories,
lives forgotten and yet to come;
the transient ghost,
familiar and strange,
constant and fleeting,
here and far away,
stares and ripples out then in
to thirsting, pooling eyes,
so deep all measurement is obscured within.
Languidly changing
perceptions of self
sift in mind more than matter,
when a deep inhale
turns to an inward yawn.
Sleep then resides
in the body, in the skin’s pale, in the eye’s foggy,
in the catacombs of wakefulness and rest.
Illusory mumbling, side effect
of the good hearted laze takes place of pause,
and the leaden weights, fear and inhibition,
bare down to suppress bolder moments of inner renaissance,
those which occur when the feet first hit the floor.
