BEGINNING IN LEARNING

learning either becomes a process

of accumulation of knowledge or

it is a complete unconditional involvement

in understanding of one's being

of what is happening in relation to light within

in joy and laughter and obedience of thine breath

that I feel

I know and i understand

a journey for the joyful discovery of the unknown

known is an accumulation

when one knows it becomes past not unknown any longer

it has become a memory written on a tape hidden inside

a death of mind in the ever so crowded junk yard

of memorabilia of one's ancient computer

now it is time

I am in the beginning of my search of the unknown

the search of the unknown love

only that search only that path only that journey

light heavy whatever it may be

ever here and ever now will make me a happy learning man

LIFE GOES ON

when I introduced my mind to an

uninhibited experience of my heart's unquenchable hidden desire I

I was inducted immediately into its cold rationale

instead of its repressed world burning hidden fire

I accepted as thus my mind's compartmentalized drives

and its ever so well known appetite as the unquestionable

pre-requisite norms for an expected happy unity and

I became a subservient tool willingly used

in the confirmation of perpetual historical marriage instead of

finding a harmonious love blossoming in its untouched purity

so I thanked my lord

I thanked him for the shadow I thanked him for the light

and I followed my destiny entrapped in a heavy heart

THE FINAL CURE

can I be a witness to my body

to my mind to my heart

how can I be a witness to my soul

are they different parts of me

listening to hearing what I say

and responding to what I may do

or are they answering their own line

regardless of what I may say or do

in carrying me to my destination day by day

I know who would like to be with me

in my happy day but I wonder

who would like to be with me in my dying day

how I would like to be seen I wonder

when my life is replayed and

would I be contented indeed

when my return is perhaps delayed

what would i say that

I might be able to do differently

if I were given one more chance

to live another lifetime

would I be interested to learn

how to witness myself living my life

as well as witnessing

the witnesser witnessing me

would I perhaps prefer to live a simple life

what is the way I wonder to ensure

my immediate return to my

well-formed well-known comfortable identity

oh how complicated we have become

I certainly am it seems caught up in this

perplexing dilemma in trying to discover

a most hidden mysterious unknown era

does one really know how these things

work for sure I have no idea I have to wait

for my death perhaps to find the answer

and that will be my final cure

PAST PRESENT FUTURE

I don't own my past

and my past does not possess me

for I do not belong to a dead memory

I ask nothing and I demand naught for I am here and now

I am my present

I owe nothing I own nothing

I am nothing but a living present from me to me

I do all the doings and give them away all to you

to feel to understand

take it away if you can

breathe it if you must

as for tomorrow

as the sayings go

what goes around comes around

and what is today will become tomorrow

understand I love you

and when you inhale me

you will do nothing but exhale me in eternity

A PERPETUAL RE-RUN

this is the play of your life

do read it aloud if you want to know

what this mystery is all about

you'll learn it by heart if

you rehearse it as your evolving fate

loving every moment of your breath

with joy and sorrow for your eternal date

you will move like the king of kings

in perfect form

and shine as bright as the sun

even in a gloomy doom

you will sing like an eternal youth

in pure innocent laughter

and you will stand still like an autumn leaf

in complete balance with a harmonious belief

you will attack like a tiger

for your prey for a quick deserving death

and you will be ready to run like an elf

to preserve your longing breath

you will sit like a buddha

in an endless day without any dread

and you will beg like the fakir

without any concern of your daily bread

you will plant your seeds

after clearing your land

and you will harvest your daily bread

with your own deserving hand

you will mend your dam

to light your dream

and you will catch your fish

in your communal stream

and the day will come

when you will offer yourself to make an ultimate stand

and you will understand at last

the script of your ancient land

words are spoken so the deed can be done

the stage is dark and empty when the lights are gone

only the play remains for a perpetual re-run

WATCHING PEOPLE WATCHING EVENTS

watching people

watching events

watching people watching their cars

watching people matching their scars

from a safe distance

with a cool logical objectivity

and a clear human subjectivity

watching people

watching events

watching people

watching oneself

seeing people living their lies

seeing events feeling their cries

from a known distance

with a shared brotherly responsibility

and a felt sisterly vulnerability

seeing people

seeing events

seeing people

seeing oneself

hearing people denying their calls

hearing events forcing their falls

from a once-lived distance

from a well-earned clarity

and an untouched susceptibility

hearing people

hearing events

hearing people

not hearing oneself

knowing people finding their mates

knowing events helping their fates

from a distance of none

when the knowing is done

and the self is already gone

knowing people

knowing events

knowing people

knowing oneself

behind the bars in an endless space invisible to all

waiting with patience for the expected call

A LITTLE BOY WITNESSING

a little boy

curious of what he sees

watches observes

subconsciously inquisitively

moving darting creatures

of all kinds in front of him

caught in an unknown frantic activity

a cat

moves cautiously

eyes suspiciously the big dog

sleeping noisily and lazily and so comfortably

by the side of the little boy

under a shaded tree on the yellow green grass

of a warm hazy mid summer day

a woman

sitting erect in front of a cloudy mirror

picks at the undesirable hair from her upper lip one by one

watches observes incredulously

strange distortions of her face caused by

the momentary pain of her bimonthly intervention

on the road to acceptable beauty

an old woman

rocking on her ageless crooked chair

cracking the old wooden parcels of an unpainted veranda

reading slowly some age-old letters of a bygone era

getting lost in her thoughts

looking straight into distance

with empty dried-up eyes

a young man

hanging out from a second story window

looking seeing

watching observing

all he can manage

all at once

takes notes on his little pad writes

“witnessing”

"passing by in front of one’s eyes

living in front of one’s nose

things objects subjects creatures of all kinds

big and small going their own way

doing their own thing living their own lives

not taking the time to ask themselves

who they are and how they are witnessing their lives”

“what would others I wonder observe

in their witnessing of me

and what would they say

I wonder about me

not much I am sure

I would say not much for

they are far too busy with themselves as such”

the little boy

catches a butterfly

and immediately

takes its wings apart

the cats

nuggles up to the little boy makes herself comfy

but still eyes the big dog suspiciously and

the dog continues to sleep

the woman

paints her lips redlicks them voluptuously

and colors her eyes green

the old woman

closes her eyes

her face shows a pleasant visitation

to a distant private space

and the young man

wonders looks sees watches observes

in his own world

witnesses all