I Gave Up

I gave up concentration,
repetition, mantra-japa,
every inward discipline,
and just let my mind
wander where it pleased
until one day
it didn't return.
Now I can see more clearly
through the lens of emptiness
that there is nothing at all
but a finch
landing on the rim of the bird bath
where most of the ice has melted  
but a lingam of
translucent pearl.
And it is very clear that
there are no concepts,
there are no souls,
there is nothing to believe.
Deep in the belly
this breath comes and goes
but I do not even call it "mine."
How do I know
who is breathing?
That too would be
an assumption vanishing
along with the Buddha,
the past, the future,
the notion that anything is wrong,
and the unfounded premise
that the world must be saved...
All right then,
for the sake of the finch,
I am sprinkling Nyjer seeds
on the frosty green moss.
There.
The world has been saved.


Purple Finch, from Greenfield Recorder