Sight Itself

Yes you see, but do you see sight itself?

When you read a novel you see the words and in your mind this is woven into a story. Yes, it is wonderful to lose oneself in a story, but the wise do not lose sight of the page on which the words are written. After all, it is only a story.

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Life’s Blood

Thinking is like a two-edged blade
It can be a very useful tool
But once we have picked it up
We must acknowledge that sooner or later it will cut us
Today there are many people who are bleeding to death from self-inflicted wounds
But they are so used to this blade
They can’t put it down
And go on using it trying to solve every problem
All the time cutting deeper
Into their own life’s blood

The hidden path

We seek a master like a religion
A god to show us the hidden path
Lost souls are we, moaning in the wilderness
Our greatest fear drives us on
Back to the cave we dread to enter
But even in the darkest place
The mind’s eye beholds a shining light
The person we wish to be
A glorious knight, strength of body
To serve our new found strength of character
All we need is something other than ourselves
To believe
A guru, a cause, a righteous war within
An ideal held up
The teacher we long to become
But never quite to excel
A beautiful story, this mystic’s path
An unfolding adventure for us alone
And at the summit what will we find?
Another, different, master to follow
A procession of projected perfection
At which to strive
Or the end of all journeys and an inconsolable sadness
The enlightenment at innocence’s end?

Bitter-sweet Ache

Old friends, how could I forget them?
Once we were so close
He was cool
She was great in the shower
So what if all we ever did was drink and screw?
I miss those days
I miss the chances I never took
The friendships I let slide
Loves lost in the tumult of careless years
Now I can barely recall their names
Only the sad feeling of the road untrodden
Paths left for the weeds
And the bitter-sweet ache of emotions long buried
Now coming up for air
We were young and stupid and full of life
That life burns in me still

Dissecting a Cloud

No words, saved up thoughts
Can answer true –
Only tiptoe around
The most obvious truth
Yet never set foot on that ground –
Dissecting a cloud
And finding nothing in his hands
The scholar despairs
Yet it is self-evident I stood the sternest test
Without the need for thoughts, or words
Or rather they took their places as servants
To greater cause
Before the event they fell over each other
To show me the way
And so I erred and stumbled
Or worried about stumbling and so fell
Until the moment came for the test
And eyes fixed ahead, thoughts had no choice
But to follow the narrow avenue offered them
And under sweat and toil a thoughtless place was born
A simple switch of focus and hysteria became calm
Instinct took over and honesty –
Without compromise for bending truths
Or looking one’s best
Showed them all what I could do, and cannot
And being the best that I could be
Who would not be happy with that?
When the road unplanned offers up such un-guessed at wonders
Such gifts not wrought by my hands
And you few who understand these words
Can share the joke
That I have no other way to tell this story
But with words!
So off with you, no more philosophies
And see this place for yourself

No Mistakes

Why do we think we make mistakes?
What is a mistake other than the thought that ‘what is’ should not be?
But ‘it’ is!
Does the rain fall in the wrong place;
Do birds sing the wrong tune;
Do we not stumble and end up in just the right place because of it?

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014
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