The Absolute dons a cloak of illusion
to wander like a fascinated botanical tourist
through the luscious garden of its own creation,
redolent with the scents of life, death, pleasure, pain,
and all the vivid richness that sentient beings crave and fear.
This world itself is a realm of imaginary playmates
with no solid or enduring reality of their own,
except for that which is bestowed on them
in the mind of that wild wanderer —
As You casually recline on a shoreline called “Eternity”,
lucidly dreaming out into the shimmering mirage of Yourself,
the transparent forms of Your flowing creative energy
weave and dance in a seamless choreography
of ocean and wave, while You mindlessly
drift through the luminous radiance
of the mysterious Unknown.
In Your grand mood of sublime intoxication
You stroll naked and delirious through self-lit star fields,
gathering just the right amount of fragrant light to permeate
jewel-like water worlds with the irresistible perfume of dawn.
Wordless in Your innocent wonder at the synchronicity
of the vast totality of infinite manifestation swarming
around You now like drunken mayflies in summer,
You delight in the inexhaustible play of cause
and effect, at visions of love at first sight,
at rainbow worlds of wondrous lyricism
innocently spun from the potent seed
of Your own divine curiosity.
Although there are those reputed wise ones
who will claim that You are formless nothingness,
just as others assert that You are the basis of everything,
all such conceptions are simply Your own humorous jests,
compassionately spoofing the compounded charades of identity,
while effortlessly transmuting the chill of chaos and doubt
into the welcome warmth of genuine humility
by merrily confounding all rigid beliefs.
You always know what’s alive in the heart of all,
since it is Your heart in which all arise and dissolve,
already self-liberated beyond any thought or story
in the same way that there is no actual birth or death,
or even any paradox that can account for the perfection
that outshines both existence and non-existence
in one ever-widening, child-like Smile.
A chorus of rapturous melodies emerges from that silence
pregnant with Your Joy, a tonal architecture of mounting ecstasy
expanding in all directions simultaneously, while You gaily dance
in the exquisite mirror of Your own mind, casting ever-new reflections
sourced from the inconceivable fullness of sky-like emptiness.
Every door is but another doorway to You, and yet
only You alone pass through in Your dream
of distance, time, and motion.
In that same ineffable way, without anticipation or regret,
hope or fear, desire or its lack, but with only the breathless
spontaneity of a dove flock’s sudden soaring murmuration,
I bow down forever to You, the Light that lives me,
the vibrant miracle of Love that breathes me.
Yes, Your Light is Love, and since what You are
and what I am are not two, this unspeakable brilliance
has no beginning or end, no before or after, no place
or stage where it leaves off and something else
somehow somewhere appears.
This Love which makes all dreams possible,
all dreaming and even the end of dreaming too,
will forever revel in Itself as the magical display
of all there is, was, or ever shall be, and to that I say,
with a happy Hallelujah Chorus leaping from my lips:
“Wanderer, walk on!”