25 November 2014

Four Hundred and Nine

409


Therapy for the blind is vision:
For the deaf, hearing; for the hungry, sustenance;
For the numb, feeling; for the artist, creativity; for the gluttonous, more;
For the seer, the mysterious unknown.

* * * *
Why do so many play out their existence fearing death?
Other than the discombobulated inanities inspired by imagination,
Death is simply not waking up to another tomorrow.
It is living and dying that are the bother.

* * * *
There is no conclusion to all that is measurable,
Until you understand the choicelessness
In which all dreams are dreamt.

* * * *
You ask me who ... I tell you I don't know.
You ask me what ... I tell you I don't know.
You ask me where ... I tell you I don't know.
You ask me when ... I tell you I don't know.
You ask me why ... I tell you I don't know.
You ask me how ... I tell you I don't know.
All I can tell you is … I am That I Am.
All I can tell you is … you are, too.

* * * *
If you cannot control your passions,
They will to bitter ends certainly delve.

* * * *
Curious how worked up some people can get
When you say things they do not want to hear.

* * * *
You can withdraw from the world into a cave,
Or embrace it all, and sing the song, dance the dance.
Either way, it is still but a transitory, ever-changing dreaming.

* * * *
It is a god-eat-god, quantum-bash-quantum, stars-fling-comets-across-the-universe,
Rock-paper-scissors, throw-the-dice-across-the-table, everything-on-red,
Touchy-feely-three-dimensional-dream kind of manifest zone.