Crisp: Housecleaning

Steeped in brooding,
Deeply despondent
And loathing everything,
Pushing away from the nightmare,

Trying to break through
The heaviness,
But only sinking even further
Into listlessness;

Concluding, ‘Oh, the futility of even trying,
As the gloom goes on to the horizon;’
These moods, these dark attitudes,
As thick as the cloud bank zooming past

That from my window
I viewed with dismay, thinking,
‘Oh, woe! How will I ever
Be able to get through this?’

Then suddenly
It occurred to me,
‘But these same clouds
Inhabit the sky.’

All words and thoughts fled
As if swept away by the wind,
And the spaciousness inside
Extended in all directions,

And then I saw that my mind too was
As wide as the infinite sky!
But then again, I saw the despair,
That it was still there, oh yes!

And so were the clouds,
But they no longer seemed
Separated from the blue,
I could now see how these two exist:
Intermingled and yet distinct.

Crevice: Looking Up from the Depths

Five minutes to go
Before off to work again,
Until then
I have to write fast,

Today the emotions flashed,
And a few insights passed by
My roving inner eye,
With no particular results,

But for what results am I looking?
Don’t think I’ll find them here,
But not sure where else to search;
Feeling for all the seekers,

Wish I could spare them
All that grief,
If I only had the means,
But I don’t think I have that either;

Is this compassion?
Perhaps,
Or simply some sort of longing
I cannot identify.

Oh well,
I’m running out of time,
Have to go and listen
To more of others’ woes

That’s my job,
To listen
And be there
For those for whom I can be,

And that’s all
I can do for now,
Until some better way
Occurs to me or arises.

Crevasse: Blown

Woke up groggily,
Backache and shingles itch,
Still feels muggy,
As usual, made some coffee,

Listening to an audiobook,
No Buddhism, but science fiction,
Giving the Buddha a rest
As he’s been working way too hard lately,

Continuous effort may be
Some sort of standard,
But around here
Everybody needs a break some time,

But what is a break?
Reality never stops rolling along,
But there are interludes of calm
Amongst the throng,

How luxuriously decadent
To have any time at all
To reflect and consider
What’s up,

The view out the window
Is not very restful
For there’s a huge cloud bank
Blowing past with great speed,

The white fluffiness
So glaringly bright
It hurts my sleep-crusted eyes,
And I turn away blinking,

Losing all track of
That to which I’m listening
While I’m typing,
Pausing occasionally to take a sip,
Way too busy already, and barely mindful at all!