THE MIND IN ITS CAGE

When I move, the city walls move too;

When I nap, I'm sure, the walls stand firm.

But when I die, the walls will all

come tumbling down.

From a Buddhist poem found in Dunhuang, attributed

to Fang Wanzhi, translated by J. P. Seaton.

The dim hours of the day have

gone, washed away in sleep,

and I have awakened into

darkness from darkness,

and only the faint sounds of

rain and wind tell the greater

 world has endured my hours of

non-being, the primordial

waters of chaos kept at bay,

this shroud of matter cast

upon the great elemental

mystery surviving. Else

the cosmos of gyrating wheels

of stars and dust might be gone,

but these aged rooms in shadow

and candlelight, the flickering

light of the computer screen.

The mind, in its cage, thinks

the world will not go on without

its presence; but the phase

transition of death will

leave the suns face their

billions of years none

the lesser, and the maws

of the black holes will still

call for the last human.

04.09.2023

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