The mind
Offers a key
In the latch
And a compelling reason
To open the door
And walk
Along the avenue of suffering.
And for so long
You watched your hand reach
For the key
And fell through
The door
Like a bad dream recurring,
Travelling that road
As if you had no will to change.
And yet when you stand here now
On the threshold
With your hand upon the key
Some other voice speaks
Like a murmuring of love
And says,
All is well my friend,
Trust in me
Who offers no evidence
But for the fullness of the moment.
See the mechanism
Of the key
Turned in the lock
And the mind’s
Invitation to suffering.
See that desolate walk
- That well-worn track -
As not the truth
The mind suggests
Is paramount
But simply a choice
Of which door
You wish to open,
Which road
You wish to tread.
non duality
Eat
I could eat
The words
Right off your tongue
And find them digested
Even before
I have swallowed them down
For your shaped sentiments
Rolled like curved vowels,
Considered, sculpted
Then spoken aloud
Are like
A light
To the light
That shines
And does not shine
But fills
To repletion’s end.
For digestion
Is
The sweetness
That we find
To be
When we eat
What we are.
Together, We Are
If there was
A you and I
We would
Be sitting together now
Laughing at the world
And the ways
Humans like to dance.
But there is no you
And no I
Here to dance
Though it seems
Like that
Some days.
So what is there
Here between us?
There is no between
And no distance
And no time
And nothing
I would not see
As purely myself.
And so,
We sit together
Divided by oceans
But bound
By the ocean of love
Of which we are
Wholly ourselves,
And we laugh
As if
There was a you
And I
Siting beside one another
Content
To watch the world dance.
Questioning The Beach
My eyes are closed,
And in that seeing
Waves wash the beach clean.
I can hear them
Arriving,
Surging and falling away.
A salt laden breeze caresses my skin,
My T-shirt flapping gently;
The air is warm as a polished stone
Rounded to a pebble over eons.
Who am I
Who perceives the beach flies,
The waves disintegrating,
The claiming shadow
Beneath the outcrop
Of crumbling strata.
Who am I
On the other end of the world,
Sensing through the body’s
Fine and tangible medium?
Perhaps sensing is a sea-ragged rope,
One end anchored
In the matter
Of things so various,
The multitude names
By which the whole us spliced.
But the other end
Where the mind cannot go,
Where it peters out,
What is that?
If I tug upon that rope,
Draw myself
In the directionless direction
To the seabed of my self,
Who will I find
Dwelling deeper than depth?
Who sees from the ocean of being?
Who is
Where silence is?
Who knows
The creation,
Blessed to my ears,
Broken as wavelets
Rolling over stones,
And saltiness powdery on my skin?
Who is
In this,
Who is?
Wonder In The One
Wonder lust
In the ever opening eye,
Wider with each glimpse
Of the infinite,
Broader
With its ephemeral taste.
Oh, how I am caught
By allure,
Drawn ever deeper
And called ever on,
Wiling to give my all,
My wholeness
My life
My love,
Hold back
Not a single drop,
Give it up,
Until I have none
Until I am undone
Until I am one.
Like The Clock
Like the clock
Whose ticking
You no longer hear,
And like the picture
You pass every day
That’s almost disappeared,
And like the wedding band
On your finger,
Now part of you,
And like the beautiful view
These days seldom seen:
Like these
Being is present
As it’s always been,
There, at the centre of you,
The background of you,
The you of you:
Knowable only in its knowing,
Realised only in realisation,
Noticed only when you notice
You are.
