Posted on Aug.08.2009 @ 10:58PM EDT by chontri
What, monks, is the world? The eye and shapes, the ear and sounds,
the nose and smells, the tongue and tastes, the body and tactile objects,
the mind and mental objects - these...
Thought has moved full circle, Senses have absorbed in the heart. Empty of a separate self, There is not "I" but only truth.
Before this there was one heart, But a thousand thoughts. Now all is reduced to, There is no love but Love.
Something in common, Flows deep in our bloodstream. Yet to name the feeling is to lose the feeling, So we leave it as it is and surrender to the mystery.
It's rising brings no dawn it's setting brings no darkness, It goes on and on unnameable returning into nothingness. Approach it and there is no beginning follow it and there is no end, You cannot know it but you can be it at ease in your own life.