20 June 2014

Two Hundred and Three


Once you accept the premise that you exist,
The belief that you are a body, the notion that you are this or that,
You are fated to play out whatever manifest context,
Whatever blend of agony and ecstasy,
Has you in its fell grip.

* * * *
In a mere blink of eternity, a life,
A figment of imagination, of vain notion,
A flurry of smoke in a gusty wind,
All the pleasure, all the pain,
All the understanding,
All the experience,
Perhaps even wisdom,
So quickly come and gone.

* * * *
So infinite as to be you.
Nobody is not it.

* * * *
For you to be here now,
Everything that has happened,
Since time’s inception
Had to happen.

* * * *
Those who would know god,
Those capable of a greater vision,
Must get over their imaginary little selves.

* * * *
What is this dreamy existence
But an immeasurable, indivisible matrix,
A dynamic stillness ceaselessly creating every patterning
The essential nature, the source, can fathom.

* * * *
We all have the same monkey-mind,
But for whatever reason, some are able to pull back
And meticulously examine the unknown all creation has in common.
It is, indeed, a mystery beyond the pale of any reckoning.