From where come you
My thoughts
You’re not, you are
Again you’re not
You lead me to your sons and daughters
I have known your ancestors
But on careful inspection
You disappear into silence
Come back and make a stand
But no you fold
Like a nomad’s tent
A shadow hiding
-purushottama
This post is from a collection of essays, stories, insights and poems that have occurred to me along the Way titled From Lemurs to Lamas: Confessions of a Bodhisattva.
The collapse of the nomad’s tent is such a visual image of a kind of relaxation, a return to effortlessness, a ceasing to be the particular. So helpful. Thank you.
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