Category: Buddhist Poetry

“Last Time” Awareness

The world looks different to us
with the awareness that
this may be the last time
we will ever see it again.

At these times,
goodbyes, no matter how grand,
appreciative, or reverent,
ring with lingering hollowness.

And memories, even the most precious,
become razor-sharp two-edged swords,
reminding us of what we will miss
and what we will never see again.

Even the deepest understanding
of reality’s impermanent nature
doesn’t prevent us from grasping at
what we love and what has given us pleasure.

impermanent empty being

there is a reversion, aversion, mystical illusion
that we somehow fall upon, then into

there is an ephemeral elation
no relation to the weak-kneed conclusion
about life, and what it’s all about

there is a sadness, madness
utterly ridiculous gladness
we allow to lull us to sleep each night

there is an emptiness
a profound parsed instant
when we realize we are nothing more
than a faint whisper in a universe ever changing

Beyond Our Identity Masks

So much, we associate with our lives
More than we imagine
Things, people, thoughts, feelings, experiences
So much more
All markers, definers, identifiers
Yes, identity builders

Each of us
in our own way, seeks
to be somebody, something
Almost always, it’s about being
something other than what we are
Often, mistaking our shadow for the one
coming before casting the shadow

Yes, ambition, aspiration, goals
can hinder us, if
they steer us away
from the simple joy of being
without anywhere to go
or anyone to be

We work so hard
to define our likes, dislikes in life
All because that’s why we think we’re here
Beyond our judgments there is more
Undefinable, ineffiable, ever changing
Something we feel
Something we know
because we are that

Beyond You and Me

Every time I open my eyes
I see a you and me.
Even when I close my eyes
you and I continue to exist,
because these eyes and this mind
are conditioned to separate
what really exists as one.
The you that I see
is everything that I’m not.
The me that I see
is always a familar stranger
catching himself looking
into the cosmic mirror of life.
The me that you see
is the me that
you think I am
and the me that
I reflect from the mirror.
If we crawl much deeper
into this cosmic space,
all lines between us give way
to something singular
that exceeds whatever
you or I represent
separately or together.
In this space
you and I cease to exist.
For in this space,
nothing exists–
no you or me–
separate from anything else.
And in this space
you and I surrender
all form and conditioning.
And there we rest us one.

Note: This poem embodies the concept
of nonduality, which is a literal translation
of the Sanskrit term advaita. That is,
things remain distinct while not being separate.
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