Manifesto
Our economic system is flawed.
Our political system is flawed.
Our education system is flawed.
Our society is flawed.
Because they thrive on falsehood
They need lies for profit, for leverage
And in and through their design
All work is sacrilegious and a curse.
Poverty is immanent in wealth
We only graduate in degrees of ignorance
And man is bound to man in a wretched dependency.
The root of all this is the individual
Fallen from Grace
He seeks his Self
He tries to know who he is
By being who he’s not (a sum of different parts).
Filled with deluded notions of grandeur
He procures. He makes. He sells.
And he is celebrated for the profit he makes.
In this blinding business of generating profit
He is left with sight, but loses his power to perceive.
With such an impairment
He can find worldly sustenance only through profit
He woos gain
And fears loss
He is wide in mirth
But shrivelled in sorrow
He wants only part of what life has to offer
He has no faith in the whole.
And the Truth cannot be anything but whole
The Truth Is.
It need not be created
The Truth cannot be measured by numbers or degrees
It is all-pervading and all-embracing.
Truth does not grow
It does not favour
the rich over the poor
the strong over the weak
the haves over the have-nots.
Infallible in its system
It awaits our homecoming
If only man could find solace
in the knowledge that it’s okay to not know…
And simply accept his being
Forego the contrivances of “who” or “what”.
And celebrate am-ness…
Then Truth would speak
And Truth would need
That which only Truth can give
Truth would ask
And Truth would answer
And Truth would accept
What Truth had made.
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.
Retribution
He stabbed her repeatedly
in the chest
with daggered words
sharp
honed with hate and spite…
Love can be a lethal cocktail
Dangerously acidic
He threw it in her face
repeatedly
Stunned by his outrage
She sat there and silently wept;
now empty, beggared and bereft
of all guard, ammunition and daggered words…
“I just don’t have the words,” she said
“He stole them from me.”
Wit. Wisdom. Wonder... 