Is your own mind taking you for a ride.

The ultimate spiritual reality.
and nagging projects,
is there one?

The barriers of conditioning
consumed by incenerating flames
brings the lightness
no flapping feather on the wings of a bird can ever hope
no cloud in the sky can ever dream.

Do your atoms go beyond its orgasmic cores
vibrates to the beauty of living.

Dying
is more or less the same thing.
as the humming of the storms
transforming the earth in you into wind and vapours.

The self is my most volatile entity
filling infinity in an instant.

How can any fear touch it.

The death what i see in the others and in me
is it really death?
or the visible becoming invisible.

Have you seen what has died and what has not.

so just drop the question.
and watch the immolations of your thoughts
in its stillness becoming alive.

Being alive means , you still can watch.

Watching
the blossoming of the instant .

sweeping
the ugly and beautiful
with the same stroke.
as a monk kicking
the colourful dust of his mandala
created in a moment of his practised playfulness.

If watching is neuro-psychological,
brain-mind controversies,
Is beauty the compensations
given to console yours, or your ancestral traumatisms?

While Darwin debates with the avatars
Can Shiva psycho analyse Freud.
Is God born from the archiac dementia of the terrorised mind?
And the oozing of love a right-brain hypertrophy?

Can savour not become more than the tongue can taste.
Can fragrance not be more than the nostrils can distill.
The light, more than the eyes can filter.

How can one go with a cup to contain the mesureless.
How can thoughts taste that which, is not of thought.
what is taught cannot be learnt
just as those things can come into existence
through your being conscious of it.

Every day - is our meal .
to which we restrain or indulge
explaining to our rationalities
its emptiness or fullness.

Rancidity is memory
where experience is condensed ?
in labeled bottles of good , neutral or harmful.

With the translator gone
the newness of discovery,
Can it be read by our amazement?

Here is a silent zone
wherein the aphasia
neither Broca nor Wernicke can indicate.

Is man standing before God's door ?
or is God standing before Man's door?
Or just your mind taking you for a ride.?