1.
The hero
seeks the holy grail
walking down Main Street,
driving the freeway —
2.
He seeks the antidote
to the belief he's not
enlightened.
For to exist
even in Your Dream,
O Great Imaginer,
is to glimpse
every cell divine.
3.
Thoughts run round the race-course
in the brain, the ruts of habit,
and in the grandstand the witness
is horrified by the spectacle,
so much traffic in these tired, old grooves.
4.
And the hero sits
in the garden of bewilderment,
a ball of knots
in his hands to unravel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Max, I love this. That second part of course is a puzzle with an easy answer- belief itself is what's keeping him from Awakening. But you knew that already. The last lines are absolutely beautiful. I will roll that image around my brain throughout the rest of today, at the very least. Cheers, Lori