At the end of my suffering
there was a door.
Hear me out: that which you call death
Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.
It is terrible to survive
buried in the dark earth.
Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul & unable
to speak, ending abuptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.
You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could not speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:
from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure sea water.
where is that thin blue line? that hazy place in our lives where we cross over? even more interesting, is when we don’t realize when we’re in it…when things have shifted….suddenly a conversation, an encounter, a glimpse of someone or an instant which you recognize….a cold wind blows over you….
where are you then? do you choose to come back? or do you linger a while….belonging elsewhere just for an instant…..
Each & all, the subjective & objective
Spheres are related
And at the same time independent.
Related & yet working differently,
Though each keeps its own place….
Within light there is darkness,
But do not try to understand that darkness.
Within darkness there is light,
But do not look for the light.
Light & darkness are a pair,
Like the foot before & the foot behind in walking.
Each thing has its own intrinsic value
And is related to everything else in function & position.
Ordinary life fits the absolute as a box & its lid.
The absolute works together with the relative
Like two arrows meeting in midair.