15 September 2012

Thirty-Nine


39


How many forms has it been?
How many lifetimes?  How many universes?
How many theaters?  How many plays born of consciousness?
And before all time, who was there to say?
And after all time,
Who will there be to say?

* * * *
No doubt we can probably all afford
To be a bit less pretentious, a smidgen more humble,
Considering the entire universe may well be,
About as significant as a grain of sand
In the breadth and depth of it all.

* * * *
Neither male nor female,
Good nor bad, right nor wrong,
Light nor dark, high nor low, near nor far.
Awareness is without principle.

* * * *
Are you the dream streaming?
Or the stream dreaming?

* * * *
The you, you think you are,
Is not the you, you really are.

* * * *
Same old, same old,
Or same new, same new?
Just a quality of mind, an attitude,
Played out each and every fluid moment.

* * * *
All the pleasures of mind and senses,
Do they really even hold a flickering candle
To the equanimity of pure, unadulterated awareness?

* * * *
Why would not the source permeate every part and particle?
How small-minded to even for a moment imagine
Anything could be anything but indivisible.