Zen Deconstruction - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
You heal me by the softness of your lips,
The structural edifice of the ego,
Melts and like mercury in heat, attains,
No formal structure of the real.
An image, pyramid and temple,
In the throes and away with.
The eyes can then look upon a horizon.
The universe is then a gaze to the stars.
The past is present and the present future.
A statue, a wall or a holy place, what is the difference,
Remove the veil and see the old god.
Unless and until lighter than feather,
The heaviness of the thought shall not leave you.
The crisp cold on the feet,
The morning water in brass taste like nectar.
When a Zen master makes a pot, a teapot or a cup, he pours his meditation into it, he pours his nothingness into it; he has nothing else. He pours his joy, his silence, his prayer into it. Then it has a different quality, it has a different vibe.
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