30 May 2014

One Hundred and Forty-Two


142


That so many maltreat others in so many cruel ways is beyond all reckoning.
Some abide the barbarity through stoic cynicism and ironic repartee,
And others through compassionate, selfless, heartfelt service.
The human dreamscape finds time and place for all.

* * * *
To turn it off, you can either become very still, very detached,
Or you can, through a variety of means, off the body.
Suicide is the greatest philosophical question.
So, embrace the absurdity of it all,
Moniker yourself Sisyphus,
Abandon all hope,
Get ye shoulder to ye boulder,
And whistle while ye daily slog it up the hill.

* * * *
Universes come and go, but quantum abides.

* * * *
The human species has been migrating
Ever since it crawled out of the puddle.

* * * *
Where is there to go? What is there to do?
What is there to see, hear, touch, taste, or smell,
That is not ultimately the one and only you?

* * * *
It is all just imagination’s attachment to this or that.
A sensory dream in the matrix of eternity.
You are untainted awareness,
Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
Just putting in your time in whatever way the dream calls.

* * * *
The same seven deadly sins:
Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, wrath, greed, sloth,
Play out like a scratchy record over and over across time, across space.
There is really nothing all that new under any given sun.

* * * *
What need, really, for any who, any what, any where, any when, any why, any how.
You are, and that is more than enough for those immersed within, stabilized without.