No Face

 Drunken pottery wanders the Earth

Looking for inspiration

Drowning in its own ideas

Unable to drink despite it's drunkenness

Forever thirsty on a lonely road

The sadness of our predicament is unavoidable

Torrents of tears melt unfired clay during the Monsoon

Poison and death defile all that is held sacred

Yet sadness alone may quench our thirst

Within it, boundless rays of golden sunshine

We cannot avoid loneliness, for we are forever alone

Though if we lose our self, there is no one to be lonely, and we no longer have a heart to feel pain

Within our sadness, within loneliness, lies the untouched Unity of Creation

Our broken heart is a gateway to something else

Through our death, something is born from Spring soil

Afraid to die, we do not fully live

Instead we choose to wander under the shroud of death

When we allow ourselves to die, we are born again. 

When we are good and dead, we see that we never had a life

We were never born in the first place, and never had a life to lose

Who knows what awaits the passing fruitfulness of the dharma?

Never was there a anyone with a life to live or to lose

No someone in the world, not ever...not anywhere...

Who knows the sound of the dharma ringing through the woods?

If their is no one, who is the dharma for?

Their is no dharma, their is no self

Their is nothing at all

Compared to all the things one may possess, possessing nothing is most liberating!

Without a self, without anything or anyone, without a life, and without a world,

What is their to suffer??

Who is their to fear? What is their to accomplish?

Drunken sand passing through drunken time