The Jumping Magpie

On the top of the tree
A Magpie bird
is jumping
from one branch
to another.

The very same Magpie
is also jumping
in my mind
from one branch
to another.

Sailing the waters of Samsara

The whole Universe
Both Heaven & Hell
Ruled by the Karmic Wheel
Of becoming & dying.

The whole of Creation
Up and down
And all around
Is within the grasp of Anicca.

What is created
Is subject to rot
To disintergration
To dependent origination.

Whispering "there is a Self"
Or "there is Non-self"
Whispering "there is a Soul"
Or "there is No Soul"
Still echoes so Loudly
Because the Truth
Is far too subtle
To Be.

It seems overwhelming
The idea of liberation is
For such a tiny being
Sailing alone this vast
Ocean of Samsara
On the Dhammic raft.

Wake Up Urban Human

Life is passing you by
Urban Human
With each
Spring
Summer
Fall
and
Winter
While staring at your watch.

Passing by the life is
Do you hear Urban Human
While imprisoned
In between the walls
You are deaf
To the song of a Nightingale.

Feet walking on asphalt
Instead of green grass
Covered with morning dew
Hey Urban Human
Looking at the life
Through TV screen
Killing time
For the sake of boredom.

Life is passing away
Urban Human
With each breath you take
Not Silver nor Gold
Nor tick castle walls
Can stop the Death
From taking away
What Impermanent is.

Hey Urban Human
Living a fancy life
Life behind masks
And fake smiles
Behind suits and ties
Behind colorful makeups
Behind titles so sweet
Wasting a precious life
Of a Human kind.

Wake up Urban Human
Before death takes you away
Wake up!
Stop running away from your true nature
By placing continuously concrete and tarmac
On top of the very soil which feeds us all.

Phenomena

In the wave-like fashion
Oscillating
Between the realms
Of Devas and Hell-beings
Dhammas solidify
Into formations
Bound to pass away
Into re-birth.
So many waves
Make an Ocean.

The Human "I"

The sense of "I"
Is no more
A handful of sand
In the human eye.

Stream Entry

Rejoicing tears falling
Down the cheek
Gliding into
A cascade of sensations
Arising like shooting stars
Just to burn out into nothingness
Giving space to a newly born one.

The Doubt so clenching
With steal like coldness
Dissipates by Faith
Into a star-lit sky
Oh, how beautiful it is
To open the ears & eyes at last
Hearing the Dhamma
From his mouth
Seeing the Sangha
In his eyes.

The separate self
First cold than hot
First hot than cold
In constant conflict
Falls down on knees
In the realm of Hell
In humbling defeat
The Buddha is near.

Awake, awake
The doorkeeper dwells
Setting the lit eye
On the six doors
Guarding 'em safely
From the invading
Army of Mara's
The liberation is near.

The Dhammic Song of The Buddhas

Such joy is pervading each cell in this body,
each trace of restlessness and doubt
is dispersed by simply reading
Buddha's words in the Suttas.

I had no ears and no eyes to hear
nor see His Dhamma
yet
something happened and the same words
suddenly
sound so familiar as if I'v heard them before.

I used to search erratically for answers
in all the wrong directions
until I exhausted them all,
just to find all of the answers
in one go when I fell down in defeat.
How humbling and beautiful.

He speaks with such harmony
elevating the sense of well being,
gladness and goodwill.

I woke up this morning
traces of restlessness
kneeled down in Seiza
opening the pages
releasing the songs of
All The Buddhas
blowing away with ease
the seemingly impenetrable
wall of restlessness and doubt.

Up the river,
on and on,
The Practice carries on,
on the Dhammic raft.