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