Bunch: Sticky

All is suffering:
I think I get it,
But then I lose it
Get it again, lose it,
Until I’m fed up.

How long does it take
To finally get it?
The answer is stop clinging
But how do I do that?
It’s the eight-fold path,
Or so I gather.

I put some cream in my coffee,
And listened to some more dharma chatter.
Sometimes I feel it doesn’t matter,
But that is merely the hindrance of doubt (or so I’ve heard).
I’m certainly having a bout of skepticism,
And have run out of witticisms.

As I sip my coffee
I reflect upon what I’ve learned,
And on my regrets.
I can’t seem to forget
The price I’ve paid
To get this far.
The bar is high,
And I could use a bit of help.

When I find my way
I’ll be off again,
And it is my hope that
No loss no gain,
No praise or blame,
No success or failure,
No pleasure or pain,
No fame or disrepute
Will disrupt my route.
I’ve planted the seed,
And now I await the fruit.