The world, indeed,
is like a dream
Wherever there is
light, there is shadow;
Nothing ever exists
entirely alone
Each has their
suffering.
Beyond the agony of
life and death
Things have no
reality in themselves
Some suffer too
much, others too little.
Life is suffering,
Recognizing that the
world is but an illusion,
Everything appears
and disappears
Like the apparent
distances in a picture,
To walk safely
through the maze of human life
There is no
distinction of east and west;
Do not dwell in the
past,
It is only a state
of languor and suffering - an image of death;
It is a thorn that
irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills
Not by angels or by
demons, heaven or hell
Do not dream of the
future,
It is like a storm
that plays havoc with the garden;
Where each person is
clinging to his piece of debris
Nothing is permanent
And the treasures of
the world are an alluring mirage
But they are like
heat haze
Just as a candle
cannot burn without fire
A shadow that never
leaves them
There is no fire
like passion
The thought
manifests as the word;
Better than a
thousand hollow words,
Is one word that
brings peace
There is a world of connotations here, and all are integral to the piece... I have to admit, though, I am a little partial for reflecting on the past. It got me to where I am today, and I kind of like it here. :)
ReplyDeleteThis poem is actually made up of quotes from Buddha. The title was actually one of those captcha things from some website long ago. :o)
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