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13612Lips pressed against Infinity

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  • Sandeep
    Feb 1, 2005
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      Once there were many moments,

      now not even one.

      No beginning to this not even one moment,
      no end, either.

      Within this not even one moment....
      ...a parade, a procession of perceptions....
      each with their own beginnings
      endings, languages of
      straight and squiggly lines
      cast across the surface of water,

      water of life

      watery canvas of shifting light
      never the same,
      always as is..........

      welcoming equally light and darkness
      infinite variations of shine and shadow
      birth and death

      all life

      restless surface
      silent depth
      irresistible depth
      bottomless embrace
      dying daily to this depth

      this endless not even one moment of life

      waterfall of feeling
      falling into itself
      its depth
      its silence

      just as is,
      always as is.

      No shore
      no embarking or arrival

      a journey in a dream
      river in time
      watery destination
      the destination of liquidity,
      mid-air at the waterfall:

      drops of elemental being,
      flowing unity
      bursting into billion momentary
      gleaming tiny fleeting voices

      roaring life
      pouring life into life
      receiving itself
      welcoming itself into itself

      just as is,
      always as is.

      Nothing bound
      nothing loosed

      timeless flow in a dream of water,
      a dream of shine and shadow
      flowing into each other
      dissembling and assembling
      disintegrating and reintegrating
      beyond any comprehension
      beyond any narrative description
      any motive or goal or
      passion or prescription but

      just as is,
      always as is.

      Yes, along the banks of this
      river of myself I stagger,
      intoxicated by the wine of
      my own watery being,
      this life of waves
      rippling over stillness

      the still pool of heart where
      feeling breathes so quietly,
      so potently while
      the tears wells up from this depth –

      just as is,
      always as is.

      Forehead rests
      on the cool stone floor
      before this altar,

      there is no dividing place
      separating flesh and bone
      from the pillow of stone.

      A drifting through endlessness..
      eyes blinded by the brilliance
      of mysterious light --

      its reflection
      my own

      Palms turned
      upward, naturally
      holding everything to everything.

      Palms as  light
      as the feather that I am,
      feather on wind's breath.

      The mere fact that the
      yearning is present is proof
      of possibility.

      That yearning always followed and....

      ...Something........ placed that kiss
      upon my heart,

      now the clouds
      filled with light
      glide through this night

      each an exhalation
      a sigh from deep space,
      the space between sighs
      deepening --
      deepening into my sighs.

      Bowed on knees
      A kneeling of heart  in my own heart
      the heart, life made so
      I could feel it.

      This is what
      it does,

      it is
      what I do.

      Who speaks,
      who listens?

      Does this water sutra
      depend on any lips?

      Lips which can only be pressed against Infinity.

      I follow backwards into that
      yearning of water for
      that breathing song
      I cannot forget

      The incense I burn for
      the world
      burns for me.

      Between  fingers
      a slight sensation
      before the final ash --

      A final sigh

      the momentary flicker
      of acknowledgement...

      .......of welcome



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