Wind

Blowing, whistling and hissing
A strong wind is now hitting
The structures of the me
Already in brittles are flickering.
Crumbles of I all on the floor
Crackling away the idea that there is more
Beyond this appearance of the here and the now
Nothing there lies, just an empty background.
So wind please do blow and destroy more and more
The falseness of ego, its shallow galore
As tired n’ worn out the mind is asking
To end its agony and in peace finally resting.
One day it will be seen that all this was necessary
The pains, the joys were both part of the setting
That allowed this Truth to shine once again
And the empty blue sky enjoying in its fullest frame.

shakti

The last flare

We exist and yet we are not
human form appears like a flicker of light in the empty screen
one moment we are here
shining as gold as the scene appears
and then again nothing
beyond darkness and light the world disappears.
Who are you, who am I, what is this all about?
Empty questions as shells in the mind floating by
fleeting around like a smoke whisp in the room
where no-one has ever stepped out,
as nobody is asking and nobody is listening,
just words appearing and the again deliqueshing.
No answers will ever satisfy a mind that always will buy
in the idea that truth somewhere must abide
where instead the pain comes from the questioning itself
what causes the suffering is the search of this Self
that never was far, or away, or elsewhere
it is just what always IS
when all the rest dissolves in the mind's last flare.

shakti