Awareness is ambiguous,
If not genuine,
A clear pond changing
In silky union
Of light and dark
Unattached mindfulness
And razor-sharp discipline,
Punching through the senses
Into finer vibrations.
Quiteness is both full and empty.
It excludes the ego babble,
Neuron orgies.
Senators of the skull,
Wrestling in balls of confusion
Inside the arena
That is thought.
Wholeness is both nothing and something.
Nothing is without it
And something must become it --
Something
Small and transitory
Must rise out of the tent,
The rupa-dharma's of the flesh
And then precede
To devour a universe
That isn't.
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