On The Sixth Moon's Night
I came to contemplate the cosmos.
I awoke on a mountainous range:
Projected were ten thousand isles, scattered in remain.
All dancing differently,
But constructing one eternal game.
To what extent might my eye expand?
To what end will death cast its sand?
Upon what shore may the waves crash again
In peace and calm harmony?
No matter how many curtains the Devas will draw
Or how many distinctions Māyā will make~
Always, the un-curved perfection subdues and surrenders to them all.
Like the water-way, cultivating life and harvesting it on the other side.
Formless, it surpasses all stiff form and creates a path of least resistance
To the goal of the heart.
---
You cannot carve a stone buddha out of human flesh.
A stone buddha cannot experience samadhi nor still a pond.
Mind is a mirror
that must be seen clearer!
But behind the glass and that transient social class,
What is that divine perception?
"The Ultimate Peerer"
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
On The Sixth Moon's Night
I came to contemplate the cosmos.
I awoke on a mountainous range:
Projected were ten thousand isles, scattered in remain.
All dancing differently,
But constructing one eternal game.
To what extent might my eye expand?
To what end will death cast its sand?
Upon what shore may the waves crash again
In peace and calm harmony?
No matter how many curtains the Devas will draw
Or how many distinctions Māyā will make~
Always, the un-curved perfection subdues and surrenders to them all.
Like the water-way, cultivating life and harvesting it on the other side.
Formless, it surpasses all stiff form and creates a path of least resistance
To the goal of the heart.
---
You cannot carve a stone buddha out of human flesh.
A stone buddha cannot experience samadhi nor still a pond.
Mind is a mirror
that must be seen clearer!
But behind the glass and that transient social class,
What is that divine perception?
"The Ultimate Peerer"
confirm my presence o' friend
