Don’t you know?

Don’t you know?

This can’t be known.

This vast and open spaciousness:

the womb of all beauty,

can not be admired.

This vast silence:

ever listening,

can not be heard.

This unborn and empty absence:

eternally omnipresent,

can never be embraced.

This unconditional love,

overflowing for all forms,

can not be adored.

This eternal instance:

wherein all miraculously appears,

can not be seen.

This self-fulfilled perfection:

in which both lack and happiness appear and disappear,

– ever here –

can not itself be desired.

Observer and reality,

are an inseparable division,

of a wholeness that,

transcending both,

can’t be known.

Surrender the experiencer

into the freefall of unveiled experiencing.

Let the silken veil of cognitive self-identity,

slip from your fingers into the ravenous wind.

Let the cosmic and impersonal,

fall black and vast,

into you, o little naked heart,

and ravage all your arrogant self-pleasing daintiness,

until all you are is a pile of helpless rags,

blown through an endless sky,

held up by warm winds of breath,

disintegrating as you go:

as you vanish into eternity,

and stillness,

because there is no thing left to be moved.