Presence

I picked up the glass of water

A ring of residue remained

I wiped the surface

The table remained

I took away the table

The room remained

I took away the room

Its memory remained

I took away memory

Nothing remained.

 

Nothing had been there all along.

The Mind

The mind is movement

perceived by the virtue of stillness

It is an influent

whose ultimate source

and ultimate end

is a mystery.

Watch then, you

with the eyes of your soul

its spectre of affections:

of fear and sorrow

of longing and ecstasy.

And even though

in its search for truth

it makes things true

Distance its truth

as one would a lie

And marvel at its virtuosity.

Appreciate it

As you would appreciate a Monet

not just for an enchanting picture painted

but also for seeking to understand

the illuminating and glorious

light of the day.