Devoid of all supports,
Standing without feet,
Independent of any substance,
Fulsome in its stillness,
Uninvolved in its complexity,
Perfectly symbiotic with being and non-being,
The Great Mystery is open to full extend
Yet so easy to be overlooked.
Knowing how to welcome what is,
Unable to delineate between prophets and sinners,
Between esoteric and exoteric,
Uniform sine qua non,
Inalienable because it cannot be denied,
This untold realm
Exposes itself unceasingly,
Tickling one's yogic perception
Luring it deeper and broader
Under its acroamatic arcades.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem