THE PROPHET
You are the prophet
You are the scriptures,
The wisdom and the way.
You are the Buddha, the teachings,
The source from which
Abundant Kindness springs.
You are the carefree life.
You are a nobody, a nothing,
With nowhere to go
Nothing to know.
Your greatest asset your helplessness
Your jewel a supreme carelessness.
Swept here and there
By the tides of the world
Blown hither and thither
By chaos and chance
You find no rest
Yet you are rest itself.
In this understanding
A mighty heart is set free
All things fit
Into this order of abandon.
1 comment:
"You find no rest
Yet you are rest itself. -
All things fit
Into this order of abandon."
All of this post resonates strongly, particularly the lines above. I can't find myself...and I also can't lose myself. I am effortlessly the being that I am. I will never see my eye (only its reflection in a mirror) and yet evidence of this unseen eye is apparent in everything that is seen. The seen is the shadow of the unseen. Perception is evidence of the unseen perceiving.
Thank you for the pointing from form to formlessness in this poem.
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