Sometimes I wonder how foolish we are.
We left a well-lit room and entered a dark one.
Not only that, but we arrived by our own volition.
We brought nothing with us but the vague notion
that we would find out how we are in the dark,
discover something new we could only know
by forgetting everything else that we knew.
In this dark room, every wall is a mirror,
small creatures of wanting scurry everywhere,
strange flowers with sharp thorns push their way
through the floorboards — a scratch can be lethal.
Former loving family members soon split off
into hostile cliques which vied with each other
for worthless coins dipped in movie blood.
Just so, some came to regret the experiment.
They didn’t care for the dark and wanted out.
They dreamed up religions that promise release,
deceived themselves with their made-up beliefs.
Others made what seemed to them the best of it,
exploiting all the infinite possibilities of experience
the dark could provide, and in this way, for a while
became dark themselves — it all begins with contact.
In the great chain of causation, there is contact
because there are senses, sensation is a result
of contact with an object, and desire results
from sensations experienced in this room.
Desire intrigues us because originally we lack
for nothing yet still crave everything, we want to
possess it all, thus we separate ourselves from what
we have, to acquire what now seems divided from us,
and this is what seemingly passes for fun in the dark,
and why sometimes I wonder how foolish are we.