art Frederick Franck
In the silence of drawing
hidden, yet visible, in each face
I see the Face of faces,
see:
that the plural of man
does not exist,
is our cruelest hallucination –
see that our Oneness is infinite differentiation,
see:
that the pattern of the universe
and mine
are not-two,
that what lives in me
is the Tao
in which all lives.
hidden, yet visible, in each face
I see the Face of faces,
see:
that the plural of man
does not exist,
is our cruelest hallucination –
see that our Oneness is infinite differentiation,
see:
that the pattern of the universe
and mine
are not-two,
that what lives in me
is the Tao
in which all lives.
THIS IS NOT WHAT I BELIEVE
BUT WHAT MY EYES
SAW ON THE WAY.
BUT WHAT MY EYES
SAW ON THE WAY.
Having become
all these faces, all these bodies,
a meadow, a flower,
a night moth and a cow,
all these faces, all these bodies,
a meadow, a flower,
a night moth and a cow,
A STRANGER NO LONGER
I AM AT HOME,
BELOVED EARTH!
– Frederick Franck, The Awakened Eye
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