Never Was

Imagine imagine
you never knew what a mirror was
not to mention its function
never understood
what a reflection can do to you

and one day you step into one
shocked with disarray
how another you is separated
trapped in the frame
on the other side

from your side you see the limiting frame
sorry for the other “you” trapped within it
wallowing with dismay
in anger and vengeance
who brought your half in there

for a moment losing yourself
forgetting who you are
propelled into the illusion of the mirror
becoming the reflection of that limitation
you dreamt that you are that

as in awaken state
the next moment asleep
what is present becomes real
of the past all forgotten
not remembering it was just a dream

and here you find
a reflection that never was
an imagination of sort
of strange device that propels you here
of the impossible turned reality
of what is unreal becoming real
in a brief of forgetfulness
all are forgotten

but how can that be possible
to be on the other side
except a reflection
not even to mention any reality in it
not of 3 dimension or even a realm there
except an illusion
a great mystery

wake up wake up
soon a calling came
and before you knew it
awakening came a surprise
to realized it was just like a dream
a dream so darn real
yet nothing has really occurred
except a brief moment of forgetting
transported into timbuktu

if you can forget about wakeful state
being propelled into dream
having no conscious choice in it
Isn’t it the same
isn’t it possible
to forget yourself
as entering into the mirror
though never once have you left
except drowned in imagination
of unreal-turned-reality

come home to me
come home to me
as you gradually know…
it was you!

Veil the Unveiled

Alas!
Where have I not been?
of greatest bliss
to unbearable woes
of which all is but one
merely experiences
arising from the mind
ceasing again to the next
constantly within here, the NOW?
yet nothing really occurred.

Have I not had enough
that keeps the wheel yearning?
of unquestioned need
that bears witness
to untold stories
of ancient pain and
distant attachments
coming back one more time
and yet many more to come
simply to grasp
the transient thirst
of hoping
of expecting
of imagining
of desiring
of one last drop
that will fulfills
all desire
coming to its end.

Will that day come?
surely by common sense
it will not
considering that if it would
the end would have occurred before
ceasing all NOW
back to where Beginning
never was
hence never the meaning
of End.

Indeed strange how
the whole mechanics arise
a device that never
can ever be explained
left alone be understood.

Return to Stillness

the distant sounding of the cicadas
the intermittent chirping of the birds
the caressing of the morning wind
the whispering of stillness in the air
simply is.

the murmur of the laptop hard drive
the softness of the sofa
the touch of the fingers on the keyboard
the incessant thoughts
the flux of feelings
the unknown ongoing perception
the vigorous mind activity

ah! indeed stillness!

nothing to stop
nor intention to have
simply in the state of muse
of nature unfolding itself
arising
dissolving, unobserved
the illusion of existence
ongoing
as if never dies.

yet each moment
coming, going
and yet coming once again.
unknown countless times
unending
unimaginable.

no end seems to be
yet end is not meant to be
except in the now
where stillness already is
transcending time
transcending space
transcending all conditioned
that is not It.