In the beginning, he frolicked in undifferentiated awareness,
a divine ignorance without any sense of self or separation.
It is the primordial ground — timeless, free of dilemma,
unqualified by any clinging or avoidance, easy, bright
and shining being — what words can really convey
the innocent nature of all of us?
Inevitably, the shock of embodiment would thrust him out
of that warm womb of bliss and into the harsh light
of a wild world seemingly at war with itself.
That moment was a baptismal kiss of true initiation.
It was why he originally came here — to provide a means
for Spirit to express itself through the temporary form
of himself, an individualized water drop suspended
between the sky and ocean.
In the middle, his own variation on the familiar themes
of gain and loss, hope and fear, yearning and its satisfaction,
love and devotion, the consuming search and its implosion
all wrote themselves out in the singular book of his life.
Wonderful, terrible, sweet and sour, joyous and sorrowful,
awesome and ordinary, thrilling and boring — yes it was
what it was, as it is what it is: a brief flash of bright light
in a dark endless night, a song made of tears and laughter.
In the end, he passed the way he’d imagined he would:
back propped up against a cool smooth stone
on a mountain that he’d come to love;
eyes fiercely aglow like burning embers in the snow;
heart deliberately pumping out its last slow beats;
hands folded in his lap, breath calm, mind clear;
then clouds finally letting go as the rain began to pour.