25 November 2014

Four Hundred and Seven


Awareness is awareness,
Neither light nor dark, right nor wrong, strong nor weak, vibrant nor passive,
Kind nor cruel, sweet nor bitter, great nor small, good nor evil.
Absolutely indifferent in every way imaginable.

* * * *
Save the world?  What, pray tell, is there to save?
How can that which was never spent, ever be depleted?
That which was never something, ever be nothing?
That which was never one thing, ever be two?
That which was never light, ever be dark?
That which was never born, ever die?

* * * *
The body, the mind, the world, the cosmos,
Is but a sandbox in which consciousness
Is given every opportunity to awaken.
Many are beckoned, few are inclined.

* * * *
There is no your way, or my way.
The is only the Way
For each
To uniquely discern.

* * * *
A quick, hard slap across the face,
A bucket of water dumped upon the head,
The knock of a stick across the back,
Whatever it takes to wake up
To the stillness of truth.

* * * *
If you have discerned it,
Surrendered to it, become it,
And the world no longer sustains you,
What on earth would entice you to ever return?

* * * *
If you put yourself out there,
It is challenging not to come away tainted
By Samsara’s many vain and pleasurable enticements.
Pay as much attention, else you may not quickly, or at all recover.