for Baba Shiva Rudra Balayogi, who taught me this Mantra
May the Divine consider my prayers that all eruptions of thought subside, that the mind relax into the heart, and the heart be conscious of Itself.
I know nothing.
Thoughts come and I believe in them and I love them.
In that loss of attention a world is born
in which every flower has a name unknown to itself,
in which every moment has a Mother and a Father,
a beginning and an end that are so close together they are
essentially 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 a 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 from it or see it come open into the light
We want to know it and be known by it only in the dark,
when artificial light fails us and doors are all closed
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.