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The Cup, The Emptying

The human mind;

pulsing, sweating, striving,

outdoing itself

writhes against what is, even its own is-ness,

scrambles against change.

The tides


rise and fall, come and go,

as breath does,

in suchness.

The tides are still, even in their undulations,

watching all the comings and goings,

the churchgoers and the church-comers

hoping their prostrations might take the edge off

(while the junkies just use needles,

and the yogis cling to the lifeboat of mantra)

Meanwhile the mind keeps on with its whirrings

surrounded on all sides,

a navel well-gazed.

It's a theatre-in-the-round, this mind-stuff and its audience;

Hegel, Plato, Kant and thee

Jesus, Gandhi, Socrates

Every seat in the house is full

as the mind strolls in

ever droll

Yet the gatekeeper keeps the gate

and the temple bell keeps ringing

the cup is empty

the cup is full stop! a mountain! Singing.


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