I’ve been staring at the life-size crucifix[br]
Since midnight; but light has illuminated[br]
His immovable, heavenwards gaze.[br]
Strangely, it dawns on me how man seems[br]
So alone-as if fear has become embodied[br]
In words expressed in tense silence,[br]
“Why have you forsaken me?”[br]
How have I arrived here?[br]
This moment of sudden clarity[br]
Makes me realize how-in places that seem open[br]
To my restlessness-far away I’ve strayed[br]
From I believe to be the circular route[br]
That justifies my leave-taking.[br]
But shouldn’t one be lost to discover[br]
(Jiddu Krishnamurti)? Discover what?[br]
That it isn’t good for man to be alone[br]
(Genesis 2:18 NIV)? Is it why I have this fear,[br]
As I sit still wanting to keep[br]
My shadow from vanishing?[br]
But there have been these moments[br]
When I enjoyed the expertise of God’s[br]
“Helpers” suitable for me. But if they[br]
Gravitated gratis from God’s good graces,[br]
If feigned, why would I have to spend[br]
For those short times? Is there a price[br]
For all dualities that, in my case, seem[br]
Unable to bring anything to closure?[br]
Is nothing for free[br]
But God’s unforced companionship?[br]
What for, then, has God created the first Eden,[br]
Whose ideal seems the inadequate artwork[br]
Concealed in obsessions[br]
To replicate, replicate and replicate,[br]
Till a preconceived perfection is reached?[br]
Since it all began have hands been crafting[br]
Copies of Paradise for feet to find “rest”-[br]
Which instead finds its suitable “helper”[br]
In “Lady Lessness,” so that it becomes[br]
The dreaded cycle allover again.[br]
Lingering in God’s dwelling[br]
Now soaked in light, I realize[br]
I’ve seen everything I need to see,[br]
And that there’s nothing left[br]
I haven’t tasted.[br]
As the most famous Florentine would have said,[br]
I am “midway in our life’s journey.”[br]
Should I thus be grateful[br]
That I’ve found myself in His house this early?[br]
Have I went down Augustine’s path,[br]
That I should be finding the apogee of my climb?[br]
If so, I’m glad I’m on my way home.[br]

Returning to Zen

No sooner could raindrops kiss its[br]
Lanceolate leaves than the sun[br]
Making water look like golden beads.[br]
Eternity as if enclosed in each glob[br]
Falling pianissimo like fruit[br]
Ripe for picking. Nectar seeps the[br]
Wind’s threads, attracting droning wings[br]
As abuzz each pierce through spaces[br]
Like canopied eyes, as though to follow[br]
Some scents bursting silently from its heart[br]
Where the beat is the ancient echo of stillness.[br]
From where I sit,[br]
The bark seems burnished, as though it glows.[br]
Or is it a trick of light, or shadows-[br]
After moments of stillness[br]
Till the only sound is breathing,[br]
The Mind’s Lotus blooming-[br]
Like a new eye uncovering the camouflaged-[br]
And seeing quite clearly[br]
The insatiable colony,[br]
Colored like honey,[br]
Inching upwards on the bark[br]
Like tireless workers or armies[br]
Swarming towards the rotten,[br]
Aware of rainy days to come.[br]

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