Thursday, March 13, 2014

The Ocean of Thought Foam

In a village by the sea,
blackberries burst, the ocean ringed by sweetpeas.
At the edge of the land, where clouds fall to the ground,
thoughts, images, words unfold from mind...

Sea lions bark in the night,
the gray whales dive down, tail flick in air, backs black in the sun, spouts shoot into sky,
and deer who listen to mantras, their hoof prints in the dirt.

And my mind turns to desire, again.

He said our minds never stop wanting things because they are empty, can never be filled...

"You have lost your minds, so long ago," said Khenpo...
Mind, searching for mind.

And so the Guru unhooks me, unspools me.
Stuck in me like a hook in a fish. Lodged inside like a swallowed marble, like a thread in the throat?
Rainbows around the moon...around the sun...

I no longer have any closets in which to hide old boxes and newspapers, brooms and mops--everything on display--like my mind to the Guru--like a magnifying glass there--in the sun--and I'm beginning to burn...Or my mind the tinder, he the spark...

The rain trickles down the panes. The spots of yellow daffodils. The Guru's voice through the computer. And the endless discontent. 

Spots of pink flowers in the fog, in the rain. Brief moments of sun-like mind.

The Guru says he hopes I'm being beautiful, peaceful. The Guru says to update my mind. The Guru sends winky faces, smiley faces, a rose in his email. Says, see you soon.





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