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Road Work
When I started out,
the road was razor thin,
a high-wire act.
Not having a clue,
with a heartfelt desire
to end my suffering,
I tried walking the path,
falling off most of the time,
hanging by a finger,
but determined to proceed.
A few moments of balance,
temporary liberations,
a taste of what could be
joyous breath of possibilities.
As time moved on, decades in fact,
this narrow road widened a bit,
and I learned to balance
quaffing pints of bliss,
but still frustrated
by the temporariness.
Then in a day,
for no single reason
I gave it all up,
let go of the future
and the painful hope
of effortful walking.
And in the midst,
I let go of the past,
and saw the folly
of dragging a self,
a lumbering burden
of my own imagination,
along for the ride.
As grace proceeded,
the self-notion departed
an lo and behold
no need to balance
the fleshy ghost
of imputed self.
Thus, the razor thin path
turned into a highway,
adding new lanes,
paved with the View
of self-knowing Awareness,
bound for 'no-where'
in all ten directions.
A recent occurrance,
still getting accustomed
to a road with no end-point
and a pavement beneath me
is as empty as the night,
as distinct as the air,
joyful as a child.
May 1, 2001 (1of 2)
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