Weave

Ron – weaves back

 

Become what you weave, even now
you are woven together reed by reed,
you are the master weaver of yourself.

We have more questions than answers,
but the questions are wise? Must we not
ask first, before knowing?

Like the self, the wind has no name
and it has many, who the self is
comes and goes, changing with

the wind from moment to moment.
Our selves are many, they are legion,
they move through the wheel

of life, samsara, time after time.
What is time except an abstraction
of the mind, an illusion only, one we

may come to understand? Let us ask wise
Vyasa or Ganesha, do you not think even
they would know?

There is always a story within
a story, a tale within a tale.
What do they teach?

 

Let us look toward the shining
archer Arjuna, Vishnu the unbeatable,
unblemished friend to Lord Krishna.

Did not creation burn from within Krishna?
Yet, in his wisdom was he not a trickster too?
What can we know and discover from the ancients?

To look within, as did the Buddha or Christ,
to empty the self, let go of all suffering and
desire, is not this wisdom?

Only in the silence and stillness
of time, beyond all time, may
time redeem time and the self.

Take one breath, and then another,
is not all time held in one breath?
Does not the stillness and space

 

between each breath, transcend
time? Here is the eternal, let the
heart be still, let knowledge come.

This is the path of wisdom, letting go.
Being and becoming, the self knows
this, it is written, weave away with

bamboo and bark, with cane or rush, with
each silver thread of your spirit gather in
such stillness, beyond all forms, formless.

Without fear or fault, with compassion for
the self, for others, saving the world,
this is the Great Perfection, Nirvana.

 

 

Carpet Weaving...

Ambika - Responds

Thusly, I sit in the story
I listen: words come softly
like ripples like breath like life

unseen hands pull away covers
I am still ensconced in
some strange phenomena

this must be the world of 
strange expectations
where longing is unmet

but by longing enhanced
why this separation 
another layer is removed

so thick like dust packed
then loosely it scatters
in wind to the singing of chants

somewhere something is holy
8ths broken into single tones
my body comes ripplingly alive

gardens appear as if from moon's
own shaft of light: is that you
playing the flute whose intricate

 

meanderings steal away time
even I become not and whole
what shall I let go of

when I am but empty-ness
even this to not keep
my breath is not my breath

my eyes not my eyes
my lips not mine my hands
but a conduit of wonder

More layers remove themselves
so much silence begins the dance
nothing is still anymore

but this desire she that drums
across wild windows of cosmos
winnowing like trees in wind

this song swings through my heart
and I am swept into through
heaven's gate into these arms

this is utter knowing no crime
love matrix so divine: my breath ours
singular unified whole

the threads then came undone
you disappeared as maybe did I 
so I weave the welcome carpet

 

in bamboo bark cane rush bone jute
wool silk: music seals it whole. See!
it has stars, a chaos of constellations

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2012 – All Rights Reserved

Taoli-Ambika Talwar

Ron Starbuck