so beautiful that all of it is emptiness, yet i see the buddha appearing now next to me, and yet he is only a bottle of listerine... and though i wash my mouth, of what, there is no mouth, there are no words, there is nothing, and yet there is so much love... love itself seems dependent neither on existence nor nonexistence. in love there can be no harm.
though we do not understand, we must only remember all things are nothingness, yet for no reason we act with kindness, why? it makes no sense, and yet we do it...
though there is no other, still we do not enter into even the illusion of death of an illusion, it grows and grows, and in the growth there is nibbana,
but if cut off, what then? what then?
it makes no sense, yet we preserve it, again now, there is a monk...
appearing there, in the floor...
at the gateway, to senselessness and harmlessness
laughing sutra... these thoughts are comforts, this compassion is of another sort
though it is all empty...
there is another kind of enlightenment from this art of seeming to be
that ends suffering... the food we eat, the warmth we feel, the love between friends
it is true, we run from true emptiness,
only feeling the distance breeze it makes...
we love this life, in it we suffer and find joy alike,
but by the buddhas truth this is not different from having shunned it all
this is a sign of right practice, that we are okay
there is no explaining how it is here truly, it simply is...
and even if it is not, how blessed that it does seem to be,
and when it fades, blessed that it leave no emptiness, but only a lightness
for it is the body too that fades, and only the heart-mind-spirit left behind
which needs nothing external, for everything is the pure energy