I could do this forever
And never stop finding
And losing
What I seek,
As maybe it’s only
The undiscoverable seeker
For which I search
And pine;
It can’t be mine
But I still I keep trying
To get at it,
No matter what.
Is this a habit?
Or something else,
Of which,
I know naught?
I only know
That I don’t know,
Or perhaps
I don’t even know that!
And what is this ‘knowing’ business anyway?
I ask the same old questions,
Re-tracing
That ancient well-worn track,
Upon which I see
The footprints
Of all the natural philosophers
That have ever been or will be,
Oh my!
What a thicket of thinking
I have stumbled into again,
Sometimes it’s such fun
And at other times, so frustrating.
Search This Blog
Content
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Elemental: The Unending Play
And all of this
Finally brings me back
To the ordinary,
The mundane of
What’s on for today?
And so, full circle
Is where it leads,
From A to A,
From a fish in the pond,
To a land dwelling creature,
To a fish in the much larger sea
Of the milky way and beyond;
Peculiar discovery:
To return to where we began,
Over and over again,
Only to find we are un-find-able
And that this “un-find-able,”
And indefinable
Is un-find-able too!
Whew!
And so,
I hang my laundry
On my sun-drenched balcony
And make some tea
Then onwards to my exercise work-out
And looking out
And seeing what I see,
Is this what it is to be free?
To dance among the clouds
While simultaneously
Sewing patches on my clothes;
To dream big dreams
And cook supper, . . . or is it something other?
Finally brings me back
To the ordinary,
The mundane of
What’s on for today?
And so, full circle
Is where it leads,
From A to A,
From a fish in the pond,
To a land dwelling creature,
To a fish in the much larger sea
Of the milky way and beyond;
Peculiar discovery:
To return to where we began,
Over and over again,
Only to find we are un-find-able
And that this “un-find-able,”
And indefinable
Is un-find-able too!
Whew!
And so,
I hang my laundry
On my sun-drenched balcony
And make some tea
Then onwards to my exercise work-out
And looking out
And seeing what I see,
Is this what it is to be free?
To dance among the clouds
While simultaneously
Sewing patches on my clothes;
To dream big dreams
And cook supper, . . . or is it something other?
Labels:
Craving,
Doubt,
Equanimity,
Happiness,
Practice Journal
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Elegantly: Insoluble
What if
The “what is this?”
Is part of
The “this?”
And so
Is the above
And so are,
“And so are,”—these words too!
What fun!
What fun!
What a ride!
What a ride!
“Life is but a ride,”
Is but a ride too!
And so on
And so forth;
“And so on
“And so forth,”
Are but arisings
Of the arisings, . . .
And this poem
Is but a poem
But only
If you think it is!
And, “if you think it is”
Is/are but arisings
Of the arisings
Of . . . what?
Of . . . “what!”
Which is?
“Which is!”
And so on
And so forth, and on and on . . . to the horizon.
The “what is this?”
Is part of
The “this?”
And so
Is the above
And so are,
“And so are,”—these words too!
What fun!
What fun!
What a ride!
What a ride!
“Life is but a ride,”
Is but a ride too!
And so on
And so forth;
“And so on
“And so forth,”
Are but arisings
Of the arisings, . . .
And this poem
Is but a poem
But only
If you think it is!
And, “if you think it is”
Is/are but arisings
Of the arisings
Of . . . what?
Of . . . “what!”
Which is?
“Which is!”
And so on
And so forth, and on and on . . . to the horizon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
