Reality can never miss anything,
and can never gain anything,
It is ever perfect, ever complete.
All the confusion appears in it,
and in it appears all the clarity.
But both are illusory,
appearing in the mirror of intellect.
How can there be confusion for it, where can anything be lost.
Which is the direction which does not belong to it,
and where is it that it will not be,
all the directions belong to it,
and it is everywhere.
That which exists can never cease to exist, and that which can be
lost, never existed.
Only it is responsible for everything, everything belongs to it.
The waves may have illusion of control, and in the same illusion of
separation they wither away.
Rarely a wave surrenders to the ocean, and in a moment bottom of the
sea and the sky overhead become one.
By giving up choices and preferences,
by not taking sides and being one with it,
One looks with bewilderment and ask,
how does it moves from moment to moment,
who knows,
and to such an innocent one, reality embraces and nurtures.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
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1 comment:
Nice poem, from whatever I understood of it. We share our pen-name. :)
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