Mind, the empty room
Filled by the things we think of
Direct attention
Underneath all thought,
Resting, equanimity;
Like a lost treasure
Pebble in silt bed,
A lost shell, now half-buried,
Forgotten by mind
Still and peaceful rest,
The truly natural state;
The world loses track
Culture of demand
Against which, like butterflies,
We buffet ourselves;
Chasing the next dream,
Oh! Elusive happiness!
Just around the bend!
Rushing toward it,
As if not leaving behind
Sweet, fragrant flowers;
Fretful fliers, we,
Dissatisfied with the now,
The beauty that is;
No wonder, often,
Octogenarian cry,
“If I only knew!”
So, remembering,
Sitting in silence tonight,
I find that I smile.