09 December 2014

Four Hundred and Thirty-Six


The gist, the meaning, the crux, the essence, the substance,
The point, the kernel, the core, the lesson, the heart,
The moral, the wisdom, the spirit, the truth,
Is all that really counts in any story.

* * * *
What you take for reality is merely a sensory streaming
Inspired by the imagination we label consciousness.

* * * *
This existence is your opportunity to awaken.
Play out your attachments knowing they are but dross
In the true reality of the stillness before time.

* * * *
The body-mind is a churning vat of brewing goo,
In which agony and ecstasy, both real and imagined,
Play out ceaseless twists and turns of every concoction.

* * * *
Consciousness can never keep up with the awareness
That creates and destroys time each and every moment.
All it can do is relinquish all control to the eternal witness.

* * * *
Of the human paradigm, it can generally be said,
“I will care for you in so far as you will care for me.”
Love and hate are but capricious flips of any given mind.

* * * *
The persona is akin to a useless load of rocks,
Weighing you down with all its imaginary draughts,
Unreal, false, illusory, absurd, delusional, from the get-go.

* * * *
Wrestling with the future of humankind,
And all the myriad fellow creature great and small
Is an eternal chess game, a Sisyphean task, indeed, indeed.

* * * *
Were the positions in time reversed
Between you and those who have come before,
Do you really believe you would not have done much the same?