Bliss Pig
and other poems
TIME OUT
| We were always One. There was only One; there never was anyone else. But just to make the sport more scary we played at the game of adversary and hid ourselves in mysteries swathed in our separate histories and dreamed of finding One. But it was always One. One hung upon the cross, One sat beneath the bodhi tree and One was good and One was bad and One was all there'll ever be, shaman and cynic, sinner and saint. Behind the mask, beneath the paint, beyond the blade of arbitrary time, there has been One, integral and sublime being whatever, however, whoever it chose to be, being you, being me, being Itself in myriad manifestation. And, not to spoil the game, but just to have a moment's celebration, let's recollect with love and jubilation that we are One. |
