Ying-Yang


Ying and yang, the Tao of life, Buddha-less moments, uncertainties, momentary blankness, and a snake that is as harmless as the garden lizard. The water running from an open tap, the water evaporating from the sea, the water that is still in a lake, the merriment of waves, the rise and fall, the gurgle, the roar, and the hush.



Nowhere to go and yet the hope, I am lost somewhere and there’s no direction, the ways, the paths, the bleak landscape. Often the emptiness is filled with joy and often the joy is empty. If two and two is always four, then what is the need for an x? The right assumptions lead us to god.



Bended knees, lifted hands, the cloudy prayer. The shells, the shrimps, the starry eyes of a lost starfish carve a path of the right way but there are strings of pearls scattered over the surface of desire. Woes and worries, the immature decisions, provocations, hurt feelings, and a soul that doesn’t know where to go; life doesn’t always throw up opportunities. Some games are won before they are played.



A sliver of silver, a slice of hope, and a piece of Buddha-hood, that’s the Zen way of seeing at blankness. In worthlessness is also worth.



The breeze brings a message that is like an empty can. Yet, something rings a bell, but there’s no one to bell the cat. We all have a bell round our necks.



-          NZ

22.12.2019

BN: 212








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