12 January 2009

    praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. existence:
    this place made from our love for that emptiness!

    yet somehow comes emptiness,
    this existence goes.

    praise to that happening, over and over!
    for years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.

    then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
    that work is over.

    free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,
    free of mountainous wanting.

    the here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw
    blown off into emptiness.

    these words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning:
    existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:

    words and what they try to say swept
    out the window, down the slant of the roof.

'this world which is made of our love for emptiness' by rumi