for Baba Shivarudra Balayogi, who taught me this Mantra

May the Divine consider my prayer that all eruptions of thought subside, that the mind relax into the heart, the heart be conscious of Itself.


I know nothing.

Thoughts come and I believe in them. I love them.

In that loss of attention a world is born

in which every flower has a name unknown to itself.

Every moment has a Mother and a Father

a beginning and an end so close together they are the same



Between the Mother and the Father is a snow melt river

boiling through a narrow gorge.

Along that river a billion lives are lived

a billion blessings, a billion curses.

To find the quiet that was never lost I walk into the desert.

Try to dig down through rock and bone to the river underground

but that river is a river of blood.

No one wants to drink it or see it come open into the light

We only want to know it and be known by it in the dark.


When the mind comes back to itself there is unheard applause.

There is rejoicing that leads by a red dirt road

back to the quiet.

At the end of that road is no imagined home, no one weeping

for our return.

There is the space  between thoughts,  a sky with no

end to it.



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