Thick slurry clogging and churning!
Churning within this primeval ocean!
Oh! Can this name less thing be a mere feeling?
Neither is it passion; neither is it compassion
Neither is it like any other mental formation
Neither is it self; neither is it non-self
Featureless without understanding
Oh formless feeling!
Why do you keep wringing my heart?
Who is it who unlocked your black box in my mind?
Who will ever close it?
The tap of life has now been left open and flowing
It’s vital essence; is it poison or ambrosia?
Drinking from my own skull!
The heretic asks!
Why does it all taste the same?