You ask for proof of certain truth in a world we can’t perceive

Obscure night, uncertain fate, gargoyles swarm my thoughts

The Tathagata, with purest vision, laughed boisterously at the thieves

“What threat or scheme or cloven dance, have the muses brought?”

“We threaten death. We threaten suffering – we threaten vicious blows!”

“Dance, then, ghosts. I’ll continue my practice – focused on the scene.”

“You foolish scum, you ugly and fraudulent buffoon; curb you bombastic ego!”

“A point is made, a sight is scene – and now I invite you to flee.” – said the wise one

With this statement made, and his dishes washed, he bowed deep – he bowed low.

Eyes open were blind; hanging low, they see the singular truth – bright as sun.

No mantra, No Jewel, no climax in the script … only a lukewarm epilogue

The earth will split, the sky will fall, the cosmos will contract into one

The restless mind will never cease until its fuel runs out – how death makes us sob

But certain truth consoles us in its empty remedy; space is wide, time is a sphere

We yield ourselves, in a sheepish way, to the most obvious fact of all

Numbers don’t lie, space is broad, and we’re never leaving here.

With that in mind, I lift my head and focus on the now – the everlasting run

I’ll use these moments wisely – share my thoughts openly, until I disappear

 

-M D Todd, January, 2016