Don’t let anyone market
your innocence
and sell it back to you
as a spiritual technique.
Just blow bija bubbles like a baby.
Suck distant galaxies through
your bellybutton.
Let your intellect plummet
down light-years of surrender in a flash
of thunder.
It's not such a long way
into the starry darkness
of your diaphragm,
the space that was here before God said,
“Let there be light.”
Rest in the silence before the question arises:
that is the answer.
Thousands of years ago,
Ashtavakra shouted, “Layam vraja!
Dissolve now!"
He was in a cave and no one heard him,
yet the rocks trembled, the sky
evaporated into itself,
and now we live
in the echo.
When the thought of “I” floats by,
let it pass like a petal on the stream
of abysmal transparency.
Only dreamers take the night-journey.
Real pilgrims never leave Om.
At dawn, they're still wandering
round and round, well-focused,
content, truly loving
the shape of zero.
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