Too lazy to be Ambitious

Too lazy to be ambitious,

I let the world take care of itself.

Ten days' worth of rice in my bag;

a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.

Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?

Listening to the night rain on my roof,

I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

- Ryokan..

Thirst....

Don't look at your form,
however ugly or beautiful.

Look at love and at the aim of your quest.

O you whose lips are parched,
keep looking for water.

Those parched lips are proof that eventually you will reach the source....

-Rumi.

The Three Oddest Words....

When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.

When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.

When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold.

-Wislawa Szymborska.

Love at FIrst Sight....

They're both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they'd never met before, they're sure
that there'd been nothing between them.
But what's the word from the streets, staircases, hallways--
perhaps they've passed by each other a million times?

I want to ask them
if they don't remember--
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a "sorry" muttered in a crowd?
a curt "wrong number"caught in the receiver?--
but I know the answer.
No, they don't remember.

They'd be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.

Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn't read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood's thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night. perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.

-Wislawa Szymborska.

The Shadow...

Upon a June day the grass said to the shadow of and elm tree, "You move to the right and left over-often,and you disturb my peace."

And the shadow answered and said, "Not I, not I.Look skyward.There is a tree that moves in the wind to the east and to the west,between the sun and the earth."

And the grass looked up, and for the first time beheld the tree.And it said in its heart, "Why, behold, there is a larger grass than myself."

And the grass was silent.

-Kahlil Gibran.

The Path....

There lived among the hills, a woman and a son, and he was her first born and her only child.

And the boy died of a fever whilst the physician stood by.

The mother was distraught with sorrow, and she cried to the physician and besought him saying, "Tell me, tell me, what was it that made quiet his striving and silent his song?"

And the physician said, "It was the fever."

And the mother said, "What is the fever?"

And the physician answered, "I cannot explain it.It is a thing infinitely small that visits the body, and we cannot see it with our eye."

Then the physician left her.And she kept repeating to herself, "something infinitely small.We cannot see it with our human eye."

And at evening the priest came to console her.And she wept and she cried out syaing, "Oh, why have i lost my son, my only son, my first-born?"

And the priest answered, "My child, it is the will of God."

And the woman said, "What is God and where is God? I would see God that i may tear my bosom before Him,and pour the blood of my heart at His feet.Tell me where shall i find Him."

And the priest said, "God is infinitely vast.He is not to be seen with our human eye."

Then the woman cried out, "The infinitely small has slain my son through the will of the infinitely great! Then what are we? What are we?"

At that moment the woman's mother came into the room with the shroud for the dead boy, and she heard the words of the priest and also her daughter's cry.And she laid down the shroud, and took her daughter's hand in her own hand, and she said, "My daughter, we ourselves are the infinitely small and the infinitely great; and we are the path between the two."

-Kahlil Gibran