Friday, 28 February 2014


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?

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