Dark Honey

Thoughts are no barrier to deep meditation.
Resistance to thoughts is the only obstacle.
If I neither grasp nor resist them,
thoughts have no opportunity to create
the illusion of a "past" or "future."
This mind is a rippling mirage in the vast
transparency of Presence.
When I merely observe it,
without the slightest effort,
like a bubble filled with starlight
on a moth's wing,
I am that vastness, I am that Presence.
Ideas dissolve into their energy:
waves of delicious fire in my neurons,
photons free to sparkle and disappear,
sparkle and disappear instantaneously,
in the luminous sea of pure awareness.
Where is the need for
concentration or self-control?
Attention wanders beyond the galaxies:
so what? I am stillness.
I am the space that contains them all.
How can I be moved? I am already there.
I have gathered the pollen
of ten thousand flowers, countless lives.
I have stirred it with yearning
in the tiny cell of my chest that has
no walls, like night itself.
Darkness is the honey.
The moon is full.
Because a frog sings in my dahlia pot,
the silence grows deeper
and more lovely.