Various Little Pomes
The ants go roaming
in the mirror of
the mind,
over sand
which I see
falsey
*
I know this to be
an empty state,
that is to say,
a state of form
My dreams of a
horrible city is
individual discrimination
--the actual
city is universal
mind
*
I stop dreaming
And the ripples
Disappear from
universal mind's
actual face
and what's left
is I'm not here
anymore
"Bodhisattva-Heros have no separated individuality"
The reality is
nothingness--
We think
we strive