Sep 2014
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.
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.
