10 July 2014

Little stories

My soul is 
a whistling bird -
It knows no 
troubles, no woes -
Only, listen:
a most surprising 
song that makes
a joyful sound
in the night. 

*

I love meditation, and how...! 
If you ask me about beauty, I will refer to consciousness.
Is it not a beautiful word itself?
The sharp, cool, pure, essence of breath. 
Consciousness. 
But how will I translste what truly is into this clumsy tongue?
One can not graft the superior onto the inferior and hope to improve them both. 
Likely neither will survive. 

*

The eyes flicker, but the flame flickers not. 
Still is mind, while the candle reaches for extinction. 
Come morning, this will all be a dream, but it will look like a day. 


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