So you think yourself a prince alight with fire,
dynamic in your expression of unlimited creation?
But what of the fear and obstacles rising perpetually
because of your unskillful means and application?
What if your timing is off by a moment
and impatience leads to more than one undoing?
Recognize that you're uneasy. How you long to be free from
unfairly mounting regrets or mourning!
Your current approach relies too much on will-power alone;
find another way, as will-power alone is not enough.
Undam the waters of life; go deep within and seek the light.
The world is beckoning, waiting patiently for you to realize
that you are never not becoming; you will always be renewed.
Seek the Truth, without clinging to the sensation of discovering truth.
Seek the Love, without clinging to the sensation of realizing that love.
Seek the Joy, without confusing intensity for a thing's reality.

You wish for changes and emotional revolutions,
to cast aside old worn-out thoughts and constitutions.
You wish to master your psychological well-being,
tactfully blending your intelligence and imagination.
But what about the path you thought you were still on?
Do you fear you may collapse during essential maturation?
Know that you don't know where your going.
You are out of touch with reality -- place things in proper perspective!
Don't delay the inevitable cycling of completion
if you would desire your hopes to come to fruition.
Seek stability in your home, and nurturing connections.
Learn to trust and ground your feelings in satisfaction.

The two choices stand before you; but which one will you choose?
The outer path of material unfolding is easily observed.
The inner path of contemplation is a little more reserved.
You can search for it, ask for it, or even knock right on the door,
but you can never open the door, through excessive use of force.
If you sit patiently, showing all the virtue that you've practiced --
if you have the courage to dare to ask the difficult questions;
if you have the will to seek the uncomfortable revelations;
if you have the persistence to remain silent long enough to know --
then the door will open for you, without the slightest hesitation.

The past answered back
in the form of flickering
images evolving in time.

I saw each of them as children,
before they ever had to work
or make it big out in the world.

I saw each of them as mothers,
the gentle curve of a smile
beaming into the eyes of a child.

I saw bones form from nothing,
wrapped in muscles, skin
and rippling emanations.

I felt the startling disconnection
of my mental projections
and healthy, natural directions.

I felt a subducting sensation,
coupled with crawling anticipation
as I glimpsed the essence of creation.

Here is where I take my stand,
to fix the things I misunderstand.
It's time the true work began.

He said
"your mind is numb"
in his low,
concise rumbling.

"Open your heart,
your mind.
Really start to feel."
His long, black hair
fell to mid-back.

"The blessings are
offered to all sentient beings.
But you must be open
to accept and feel them.

There are four precious
attributes to first be developed:
honesty, humility, kindness and purity.

Do not lie,
nor boast and brag.
Help all beings
and view the world
as dependent origination."

He smiled and laughed gently.
"Carefully cultivate,
awaken from the numbness,
and develop those you meet."

As she lifts her nose from her notes
I wonder down which stream she floats.

Does she fancy pastel summer sunsets
whose calmly colored clouds conceal
a simple lapis blue beyond?

Does she set her sights further, forever far away --
are there glimmering galaxies gushing light and gravitation
while solar systems spin and dance in divine inebriation?

Perhaps her discretion is more discerning
and towards all minutiae her mind is turning.
Are cells pulsing gradients, chemically communicating
with energetic electric magic undulating?

Maybe those electrons evoke enticing excitations
and her shining silhouette's mere photonic  emanations.
Atoms flicker, fidgeting 'tween fleeting forces:
Protons, quarks, gluons, and other shifting sources.

Ah, but, now I find myself gently pondering:
because I know exactly where she is
I've no idea where she's wandering! (To an arbitrary precision.)

In the beginning, nothing to know or behold.
Ignorant to all forms, to all words being told.
I exist, I exist! I'm not everything else.
Throughout eternity, I'll have only myself.

I'll apply energy to create new conditions,
and cause ripples and waves with distraught intentions.
From a "this," another "that"
and the polar play will distract.

From the two, another, awareness of faculties.
Nose to smell, tongue to taste, eyes to see.
Ear to hear, skin to feel, and mind to think.
Consciousness with an ego standing on the brink.

From the conscious fields, the earth starts to rise.
Water flows through being; fire keeps it alive.
Wind, vital wind, blows great energy around.
I think I'll call myself "ME." Yes, it has a certain sound.

From the elements, my corporeal form starts to dance.
With various appendages to keeping me entranced.
Eyes, ears, nose, tongue, my body and my mind.
Oh-**! Who knows what secrets I may find?

Ah, at last, the external world and I contact!
Who'd've thought that there'd be much in that?
Awareness and otherness meeting for a moment.
Before a strange sensation -- now I start to plummet.

I think I'm sad. There's cloth on me. I smell something astringent.
I see a bright light. Sounds all around. What tastes are contingent?
I didn't bargain for sensations that flicker up now.
I'd take it all back, if I only knew how.

A welling within! I crave food and deep loving.
Only want pleasant forms, otherwise I'll take nothing.
I want good music, beautiful things to observe.
But these forms in my mind, I think I'll conserve.

I'll repeat all sensations that are pleasant
and continue this practice and never regret it.
My Self is a thing, perpetually flowing.
I'll live forever; I'll never stop growing.

Forever happens much sooner than planned.
Every year I get older, I get sick and feel shammed.
How could this happen? I was so fit in my prime.
On my deathbed with my pleasures, I've wasted my time.

Through a strange landscape, I'm stripped of my Self.
Alone, all alone, with nowhere to turn to for help.
But there is a return to this world, once again,
to the beginning with nothing to know or behold.

What are their uses
when everyone confuses
the words I say
with the ones they think?

Hello, Mr. Man-in-Blue.
You know I've got my eye on you.
You I see looking back at me,
waiting for this man to stumble.

Well, Mr. Man-in-Blue
can you tell me what stands True?
Or could it be a mystery
with which we both will fumble?