“You Are Your Own Master…”
If only this were true,
Perhaps at one time it was great Buddha,
Inside of me a furious demon of possession burns bright,
That it darkens my thoughts,
Maybe one day I shall return,
Triumphant inside my own mind.
“Be A Light Unto Yourself…”
I am trying,
How am I trying,
Through this inner exploration of strife,
The endless cycle of creation and destruction,
The black hole of my existence,
Seeking from within,
The answers that I am without.
“All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think we become….”
Is that so dear Buddha?
For if it is I then am victim of my own mind,
This is my fault,
Imprisoned by thoughts I do not understand,
Is this possibly true?
Is it possible then,
That I am capable of changing my Black Dog,
Into a Brown Lab or Border Collie,
Or perhaps make a red rose yellow,
Would this truth then,
Free me from these bastard thoughts?
“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection.”
Time has taught me differently,
For though I give of myself selflessly,
Without seeking reward,
Love has always abandoned me,
Left me bleeding by the roadside,
Kicked while I was down,
To the point that I wonder,
What do I deserve in this universe?
I’ve answered its call,
I’ve done what it asked of me,
What more must I do?
“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
As I wander through your thoughts,
The record of your life,
The great way with which you lived,
I can say without equivocation,
This is true.
“The only real failure in life is not to be true to the best one knows.”
I have tried,
And sought to be the best my mind allows,
Though it seems not enough,
The fragmented mind I did not choose,
The rampart shattering distractions of this psyche in flux,
“Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.”
Sense is by no means common,
And my reason right now must be questioned,
Perhaps one day,
It will prevail,
The three parts of I,
Separate and distinct,
Require that I question reason,
For reasons I don’t know.
“A jug fills drop by drop.”
This jug will never be filled,
For I crave more knowledge,
Supposing that my jug will fill,
With my last breath.
“Even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely.”
I fear not death,
Though I fear that does not make my life wise,
For when my last step has been made,
I will know that what I knew was always overreached by what I didn’t,
I am contented.
Don’t know why dear Buddha,
It’s your words, your beliefs,
That led me though tormented by thought,
To find comfort,
In all that I don’t know…
BUT… I do know…
As surely as I sat underneath that tree,
Floating to a new understanding;
NOSCE TE IPSUM…
NOSCE TE IPSUM…
And that is why I strive,
In spite of all…