Photo Laura Williams
The word “I”
Is like the word “sky”.
Both point to things which
Cannot be located as “things” in themselves.
Sky, the Infinite Vastness,
Within which the Heavens appear… and vanish.
Empty, itself, as a thing,
Yet... holding everything.
I, the Formless Aliveness,
Within which, as which...
All manifestation, even the Beloved Sky, appears.
Empty of form, myself, yet Full of all that is.
And Full, as well, before form ever arises,
Of the Unalloyed Ecstasy,
Of Unmanifest Pure Being...
Heaven.
Not a thing, alive...
But Life, Itself.
Is like the word “sky”.
Both point to things which
Cannot be located as “things” in themselves.
Sky, the Infinite Vastness,
Within which the Heavens appear… and vanish.
Empty, itself, as a thing,
Yet... holding everything.
I, the Formless Aliveness,
Within which, as which...
All manifestation, even the Beloved Sky, appears.
Empty of form, myself, yet Full of all that is.
And Full, as well, before form ever arises,
Of the Unalloyed Ecstasy,
Of Unmanifest Pure Being...
Heaven.
Not a thing, alive...
But Life, Itself.
No comments:
Post a Comment