n/a 2Mature

I am apart
from that which I am,
from an emptiness which is fullness,
an untrodden land.

What is it  that I seek?
What is this ‘I’ that seeks?
What seeks this for ‘I’?

Tongues of fire, caught on the wind,
exhaust themselves into emptiness.

Love, a smoke-ribbon, swirls itself away.

Friends’ faces smile on, in this memory burning.
Love, a ribbon, swirling away.

What is this life, with these forms that emerge from the fire?

How am I apart?

How is there an ‘I,’
when nothing stays the same?
How is there an ‘I,’
when nothing can be made to stay the same?
How is there an ‘I,’
when nothing can exist apart?
How is there an ‘I,’
When self and other
Are neither separate nor the same?

Snow tipped peaks, touched by the wind,
shed sweet ribbons of snow.

There are the words 'I love you,'
And there is a letting go.

The End

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