the time will come

the time will come.

but it is not the future

in which i will rise,

and the presence

cannot bear me,

i have luggage

to carry, 

a heavy child.

the time will come

to complete destruction

and to accept loss.

it appears as a way

when i cannot walk

into light, i will

grow in my darkness

feeding seeds of despair

to the birds 

with their hungry noise

deep in my heart,

memories and wishes.

the time will come

when i rise out

into the sea of nothingness

swimming like a flower

which dropped from a tree,

leaving a shell up there,

floating, ready to live for a moment,

to die in non-expectation.

Nisargadatta Maharaj

'I find that somehow, by shifting the focus of attention, I become the very 

thing I look at, and experience the kind of consciousness it has; I become 

the inner witness of the thing. I call this capacity of entering other 

focal points of consciousness, love; you may give it any name you like. 

Love says "I am everything". Wisdom says "I am nothing". Between the two, 

my life flows. Since at any point of time and space I can be both the 

subject and the object of experience, I express it by saying that I am 

both, and neither, and beyond both. '

she opened her hand

she opened her hand

and the birds left,

the laughter,

the joy

sand trickled to the floor

and the little dog sniffed at it.

the mirror broke

in the corridor

between two souls.

emptiness thick as 

black bricks 

rose out of my heart.

i left in disgust,

maybe she was sad.

turning sadness to relief

is not so difficult

when

enough is enough.

rabbit and cat

appeared indifferent.

the mobile in her hand,

in mine a cigarette.

there is nothing

more to say.