Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Letting go, urged to do so by philosophers
of opposing hues.
Don't look back, never embrace your own
Brush the dust off, all that earth and high
heaven could ever measure out.
It's a first-rate saintly mission to keep
plucking those scales from our eyes.
Return attachments to the ocean of cosmic broth.
There in the waiting throng, ready to cool
my fevered brow, I dream my birth.
The heaviness of the burden fell into the
black hole a long time ago. Sing: life is
but a dream.
All is reflection, a mirror. Read this backwards,
start in the middle.
The beginning is on the horizon, the end
just slammed shut. Not the first time.
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