Everything being of one substance, Which is no-substance, And seeing that every speck of dust, is floating space, What can we hold onto?
Tell me, is there a story within you? What does it say, about what you ought to be? Do you remember tearing those pages out of a book somewhere? When did they turn to stone, and become so heavy? Well, it’s good fortune then, that you’re unable to carry… anything at all.
Do we really need to prove anything at all? Come home, my dear, there’s no shame in the simple, the wilderness is right here.
With this cage of ribs, With this narrow mind, With these churning thoughts, A sharp sword through a gentle stream— We pretend to cut the ocean. We pretend to imprison the heart.
There is a stillness inside, where an Earthquake could not, shake the edges of your smile.
Look back and it’s gone, look forward and you’ve become an actor, look straight ahead and assume a posture that is serenely available, truth is total abandon to what must be, it is courage itself, for what is courage but a step forward into a moment without a shape? A fish in a net isContinue reading “shapeless”
Laying bare on granite, The sound of the waterfall fills the entire universe, Where is there such thing as a problem?
It is wise not to love someone too much while they are still alive. Love them instead each time that they die in your arms. Eyes on eyes, hands in hands. Take moments to die together each day.
Oh how the stars draw us forward from the mud of our original homes, tasting fine wine and aged cheese, we lock ourselves in time. “She said what!?” We polarise and we jeopardise our innocence for projections of better lives. A greener garden, a deeper love, a bigger bank of plastic paper andContinue reading “an ode to apes in tuxedos”