Soft silver dew on grass,
an animal snatched one of my shoes from the terrace last night.
Amidst a chorus of sweet singing birds,
the loud cawing sounds of crows,
Cool air comes in through the open windows,
and the infection on my heel throbs and oozes.
The sweet morning sun
becomes the murderous fiend at noon.
Which ever way we turn
there is no up without down
no good without bad.
Heaven and Hell
sleeping sweetly
on the same pillow.
Duality, yes?
ReplyDeleteThe pillow would be That in which and as which everything appears.
ReplyDeleteHeaven and Hell are the different modes through which That expresses itself.
The infinite expressions of the One, are never anything else than Itself
I would say...