The simplest awareness is like this:
an ocean.
And then:
Waves.
Rhythm, or Wind.
Light, translucence, and
the empty sky.
You and I, arising.
This is all that has ever been.
Hidden from view,
a moon is cracked open–
its yolk plopped into the ferment.
Illusion is
endorsement
of the sensation
that something Happened,
and it stuck,
and now we need to find out what It was.
It is the locally
embodied
transient
intoxicating
ramshackle
belief
that a real ocean
is based on reasons.
Might I suggest
you give up thinking
you might just be
the kind of person who knows one?
Only ghosts traffic in supposition
and conjectures.
The simplest awareness is like this:
a cup of tea.
And then:
we breathe one another in and out
like every breed of sky,
mutually dissolved–
each the other’s psychedelic–
and it is so blankety-blank blankin’ Good
we’ll be doing this forever
thank you very much
with your reasons.
