like when you jump from an airplane
and you are in the clouds,
the clouds zooming past you
and you plunging
into a screaming tunnel of clouds…
like when icicles turn brittle your eyelashes,
your tresses flapping frenzied,
the wind blasting through you,
cleansing,
cleansing beyond all cleansing…
like when you think not of heaven or earth;
you think not of anything,
neither perchance the parachute failing,
nor whether you remember
buckling the whole thing on.
what is the quality of that moment then?
*****
4 comments:
no quality analysis then. the moment THE MOMENT. period. in that one-millionth of a nanosecond.... we can only remain curious - never express later what we experienced.
I am gonna smoke on your poem. Intriguing.
This about the supreme stage of meditation, Balan. It is as destructive as this...nothing matters except the ecstasy of being. I have touched the fringes of this condition on rare occasions--I touch and then it dissipates.
blank. shunya
Shunya, where only the flowering happens.
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