creation begins in darkness …
witness perceives form
and all the myriad phenomena
come into being
witness is vessel
of the ten thousand monuments
all created in form
So, something comes from nothing. I imagine a way through that I think I can manage. A way that might let me feel the way I think I want to feel about myself. But it is hard to maintain and it doesn’t feel complete. It is off and out of phase.
It’s not working and I figure I need a new approach so I start walking backwards out of elevators; saying no when I mean yes; celebrating things I don’t believe in. This works well enough but only for a while. I get tired of trying to keep things straight and I think there must be a better way of getting down the road even if it turns out not to be the right road. At least I’m moving or so it seems.
The dissonance that disquiets the mind, that drives the search. The error that keeps the planets falling through their orbits.
I think I have the truth of something, and the doors begin to close.
The world I perceive is nothing other than the truth I think I know. I perceive what I believe and so do you and maybe we see a little different or maybe a lot.
The only truth is the truth that overthrows. Anything less is another chain.
I think of the innumerable rebirths of our wayward kind and will we ever wind down our collective karma to freedom. Will our halting evolution of consciousness be fulfilled after an ocean more of blood has run; or might we be shocked one day by the lightning bolt that there is nothing to do but awake.
I perceive innumerable successions of arising and passing worlds into form. I move along trying to get it wrong less often than I get it right. Maybe if I can see where the now arising stands at least a little on the now vanishing.
what is the heart but mine to give / what is the river but a true measure / what is the storm but a way to feel / what is the darkness but the day of creation