Behind the snowy prospects of your eyes, ranging like mountains with onyx studs at their peaks, lies only everything, space and light mingling and stretching, blowing, glowing away to an event horizon where I hover and vanish. There lies my true home, my yearning for it beyond measure.
THOUSAND YEAR OLD OAK TREESView Post
The more I search within for my motives, the less I know of my self; every explanation, each answer, painfully wrong and incomplete. Why do I do what I do, where is the cause, where the effect, of promised liberation? Where hides the sneaky sculptor who casts my stony belief in this make-believe world?
BY THE EEL RIVERView Post
This morning there is sunshine, and the dew-drops sparkle with their share of light, the stream flows naked, and the air lies unmoved, there is sight in my eyes. This morning there are birds singing, and there is a breeze whispering angel songs, the stream chuckles dirt less, my footsteps fall light on the path, there is sound in my ears…
By having studied, I’ve only filled my empty head.
By doing prostrations, I’ve only ruined my fragile knees.
By making offerings, I’ve only fallen further into poverty.
Sometimes I get mislead,
The path or by my own head;
Sometimes I cry,
The truth or because of the truth of lies…
A thunder has risen inside my mind. My breaths are intermingled with each other, I am frozen, stunned, speechless, shattered. I am victorious, yet lost to myself, standing powerless and vulnerable, I am reflection as well as the mirror, shimmering, sparking and reflecting. What intoxication is that?
Sad it is to see,
Sad it is to hear,
Sad it is to not be able to free,
Sad it is to seek, that which is but everywhere.