Compulsive thinking distracts us from this ‘pristine’ moment and the perfection that is ever-present. Most will feel the need to become engaged with “alarms” the mind sounds about the past and future. The following metaphor describes detachment from thought to reveal this pristine perfection – regardless of what mind may say.
A smoky blanket of thought arises,
wispy tendrils curl upwards,
thickening, sounding an alarm,
attempting to draw attention
and give shadowy shape to resistance.
This smoggy persistence is futile
as I am unalloyed light,
these billows of acrid smoke,
dependent on my resplendency,
cannot choke their source.
The klaxon silenced, the fog fades,
and, thoughts unmade,
dissipate whence they came
as I watch this clever game,
untainted, ever same, eternal flame.
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