11 July 2012

Eight


8


What would it be like to never see anybody, anything ever again?
To retire forever into the abyss, and never re-emerge into consciousness.
No more desire, no more fear, no more dread, no more worry, no more sickness,
No more injury, no more caring, no more bother, no more death or taxes.
And, of course, no more beer, wine, drugs, sex, or rock and roll.
To die for all eternity, or come back for another round,
Will that yay or nay decision be the last box
On some Pearly Gate questionnaire?
Or do you just sign in or out as you please?

* * * *
If you were the last two-legged on the planet,
To whom would there be to justify or explain your existence
But the same you it has all along really been.

* * * *
What there is to learn, what there is to impart,
Is prior to all the volumes ever written,
All the institutions ever concocted,
All the idolatry ever asserted,
All the rituals ever established,
All the temples ever constructed,
All the incalculable inanities, insanities,
Ever carried out in some imaginary god’s name.

* * * *
What there is ultimately to learn
In this quickly passing dream
Is well beyond any karmic notion.
It is the free, untainted, uncarved youness,
That you truly are prior to any and all experience,
All that was immaculate before time began its sculpting.
None are required to conform to any state of mind
But through the notions of consciousness.

* * * *
Though we are all of the same formless origin,
Each of us is snared in an individual narcissistic reflection.
No one will ever interpret the mystery through the same looking glass,
So even the choir quibbles over this and that, that and this.
Less painful just to remain alone, inwardly still,
But it would seem few of us are willing
To be quite that anonymous.