The Creation

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​In the beginning the heart full of mirth
Let go of the heaven and the earth

And the heart was without form and void and brightness was upon the face of the deep
The heart had awoken from its invisible sleep

And the heart fell still upon the face of the waters
And there was a new love like a dynasty of devoted daughters

Silence knew the inner light
And the heart saw the light and it was good

And the heart divided not the light from the darkness and brought light
Into the depths of the night
And the evening and the morning were the first day

And to draw pleasure from form cramped the heart
And formed it forever apart
And the heart saw it was not good

The silence opened and embraced the world in its Grace
And everything could find its time and its place
Which was here and now in the heart

And the earth was free to create,
To love and to hate
And the heart was free just to be
And to truly see
And the evening and the morning were the second day

And the formless appeared in the heart
And there was joy
For the heart had a new toy
Stable and bright
With which to develop its inner sight
And the heart saw that it was good
And the evening and the morning were the third day

And the heart made a body in that inner sight
To suffuse that body with true light
So that the heart may cool its age-long fire
So that the heart may find love beyond desire
Craving could cease
And the future could finally rest in peace
And the evening and the morning were the fourth day

And the heart could see all the way inside
And the past had nowhere to hide
From the love of new eyes
Or from the hearts of the wise
And the evening and the morning were the fifth day

And the breath so refined
So undefined
Filtered the dust of the world
Until its innermost heart
Never apart
Formed a vessel of formless glass
In which the suffering of creatures may arise and pass
Safe and without a sound
Distilled into meaning more and more profound
Until the seeing was crystal clear
And the crystal held so dear
That to see the suffering was to be free of that suffering and free of fear
And the evening and the morning were the sixth day

And the heart did rest in peace
And the peace was eternal release
​And the evening and the morning were the seventh day.

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The Beautiful Princess


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The Princess was as good as she was beautiful,
As kind as she was dutiful
And yet there was a huge surprise
Waiting behind her bottomless eyes
“I am disgusted by this body,” said the Princess
“It’s a revolting, putrid, horrible mess.”
“And yet you shine so brightly,” said the Prince
Failing not to visibly wince
“That is why,” said the Princess, “the heart is free.
Free to be seen and to see.”
“What do you see, Oh Princess?” said the King-to-Be?

“I see a great palace
Wrapped in an even greater chalice
As high as the sky

I see clouds as white and sweet as finest wine
I see climbing to the heavens the strongest vine
A stair
Made of air
So fine

I see that it at its end
The galaxy will be Thine

There at the end of time"

“And shall I have your hand?”
He said.

“The hand is made of sand
It is already dead,”
She said.

“Then must I die too
To be with you?”
He said.

“You that was never born
Shall wear the heavens and be so worn
Like a vow forever sworn.”
She said.

“What must I do?”
He said.

“To see this skin,
So frail, so thin.
That is your task.”
She said.

“I can see only your lovely face
Full of grace
What again do you ask.”
He said.

“See too the light that shines
Through and beyond what form confines.”
She said.

“The skin
Is really very thin,”
She said.

The Prince was enchanted
One day her wish would be granted
As surely as his blood was red
(And just as soon as he could get out of the Royal bed.)
​
And the Princess left the land of the real
With its little itchy feel
To tenderly care
In the open air
And the Prince would follow
When he could borrow the fare
And the time of the world passed yet all was well
For the life of the heart remained strictly parallel

Evaṃ

​marked in charcoal by the itinerant soul daubed in a dash in chalky white ash


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"The Plough of the Mortal God" was inspired by a section in the Kasi Bharadvaja Sutta. (Sutta Nipata 1.4):

[The Buddha said:]
"Faith is the seed, practice the rain,
And wisdom is my yoke and plow.
Modesty's the pole, mind the strap,
Mindfulness my plowshare and goad.

Body and speech are guarded well,
And food and drink have been restrained.
Truthfulness I use for weeding,
And gentleness urges me on.

Effort is my beast of burden,
Pulling me onward to safety.
On it goes without returning,
Where, having gone, one does not grieve.

This is how I plow my plowing --
The crop it yields is deathlessness!
And when one has plowed this plowing,
One is released from all suffering."

(Translated by Andrew Olendzki)

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The Oath



​​One day I shall lay down these bones, 
look up at the sky 
and be neither here nor there. 

One day I shall be in between 
and between-between, 
a whispering nowhere. 

In between the lines of life I will gently, humbly care.

I will serve the truth until the end of time, 
so I swear. 
​

​sacred are the clean teeth
sacred the cleaning and the cleaner

sacred are the wiped lips
sacred the wiping and the wiped

for sacred is the given
the toothpaste and the toothbrushes
the tissues and the trifles

sacred, here and now
is the given
sacred the giver

for humble lips
and humble teeth
shall utter sacred words
of goodness 
and of wisdom

​
​

​he arrives
the door lets him in
it is warm inside
the coat takes him off
he is tired
the sofa sits him down

“Call for the moon as he sleeps,”
cries the bed

“Call for the sun as he wakes,”
cry the curtains

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at the lathe or the spinney
work makes the unknown
the half conscious, our own 
yet we know not

we know only form and function
within a soft humility
or a nagging compunction 

yet beyond the urge
truth may emerge
shining, unspoken
and blow the heart wide open
​

there is winter through the window
the sky is grey-blue over the silent snow
and the dawn is as endless as the night

together a little whimsy
would lift the melancholy
into a fuller heart

but afraid of the cold and the dark
the dragging dark
they break into a positive stride
and step straight over
the sweetest of pathos

“I can teach you to be real
if you are willing to feel.”
He said.

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