VIII


Polish mirrors that never reflected,

Clean stains never spilled,

Mend tears never torn,

Perfect that never flawed,

Illuminate shadows never cast,

Give purpose that requiring none.

You are ever unfathomable and unknown,

A timelessly whimsical enigma dancing in stillness.

 

* * * *

Your vain existence is as secure as that,

Of a clay figurine created by a child playing,

And then delightfully shattered with a laugh of glee.

 

* * * *

There will never be political, economic,

Or social resolution to the human condition.

Imagination itself must make the paradigm shift.

 

* * * *

You will never be free,

Until you can say no to your parents,

Your ancestors, your mythos, and finally, yourself.

 

* * * *

Take a lump of clay, divide it in two.

Sculpt them into any forms that come to mind.

Call one evil, the other good; one black, the other white,

Or any other fabrications of the dualistic mind.

Both ever remain the same clayness.

 

* * * *

Study anything and everything,

But neither follow nor imitate anyone.

What is the point of listening to any teachers,

If you do not intend to someday grasp the teaching?

 

* * * *

It is consciousness that suffers, not you.

The awareness is without laws or principles or ideals.

What consciousness believes are but choices founded in delusion.

 

* * * *

Geographic isolation has spawned a broad diversity of mythoi,

Each grappling to protect ancient beliefs, customs, and histories.

Humanity’s clinging to what was, is becoming less and less viable,

As the stew of a shrinking world continues to simmer in dreamtime.