I am a poem

I
am a poem
a juxtaposition
of l e t t e r s , symbols, words
waiting
to be discovered
by
you

It is
YOU
who bring me into the revelry or pathos
of your rose tinted glasses

without you
I am lifeless
not even words
when you look upon me with curious eyes
I am not waiting to be discovered
for I am PRECISELY what YOU make me out to be
YOU are waiting to be discovered within these words

what am I to you?
I am a chameleon
my form appears differently
for each pair of eyes who see me
beauty is in the eye of the beholder
as is ugliness

I may resonate with you
please you
teach you
inspire you
dissapoint you
bore you
upset you
I may feel like 2nd rate drivil
or
a luxuriously rich chord

As you read me
what thoughts go running in the fields of your mind
are entirely of your own creation
based upon your equally endless fields of karma

It was Heseinberg, that great sage who ushered in the quantum age
whose Uncertainty Principle says
It is YOU
who brings ME
into existence
by interacting with me

You did not happen by
but rather
you create me
by dancing with me
I am nothing without you
my beloved, eternal dance partner

Heisenberg found the Buddha
right in the midst of dualistic musing
Going in the wrong direction down the road of life
we sometimes see a sign
that points us in the right one

Become unstuck at the two extremes
don't repeat that tired story
that you discovered me

The wordsmith who forges these offerings
whose sinews are spun out of earth, water, fire and air
he too was written into being so effortlessly
by that greatest poet
who remains forever veiled

This is the story the poet chooses to tell you
a plausable one
within the framework of the middle way
an extreme one
that sits uncomfortably in between

The poet I am
is none other
than pure being, pure artform
waxing words and extolling virtues
about the great mother
not my own
but that which birthed all appearances, all experiences
the one we are all clawing our way back to

This life is a regression back to our source
the lifespring from which we have each issued forth from

This life is a continual homage
an unending reverence
to that omnipotence beyond all words

My failure to capture her
keeps me churning out
an endlessly babbling stream
of magically, mundane words
each and all doomed to fail

I am a lover in love
intoxicated by her infinite and myriad beauty
a profound, eternal and nondual one
found in both beauty and ugliness
following in the well trodden footsteps of my ancestors
writing endless Rumi poems to my loved one
I am hopeless beguilled
what else is there to do?

As a poem
I am pure art
written into existence by fingers
who are sometimes nimble, sometimes hesitant

What you see
HA!
If only you knew
how I was born
how many words were replaced
how many sections moved and repositioned
footsteps in the sand forever washed away
leaving no trace of how I got here
How many streams of inspiration
one stimulating the next
a confusing, chaotic, unknown-till-the-last-minute journey
where nothing is known
and nothing is done
and nothing is finished
until the mind suddenly says
that's it

I am a poem
a mystery
even for my creator!
For he knows not
what word will be birthed in his mind in the very next moment
My secrets remains safely hidden
in the heart of this most familar, mundane world

Who is this "poet"?
He is a charlatan I say!
How can I make such an audicious claim
to this title, "creator"
when I have absolutely no idea
what even my very next word will be?
The true creator
is not

Nothing is planned
these thoughts that drive these fingers
they simply bubble up from some mysterious wellspring spontaneously
Indeed
even that which " I plan"
arises spontaneously out of nothingness

It is even beyond being humble
It is only recognizing
that I am nothing but my creators creation
and all "my" creations are hers
I cannot rightfully take credit for any of them
except in the most illusory of ways

I myself am pure poetry
this body, this mind
these thoughts, these feelings
whether in my finest form or my worst
all is perfect prose of the great mother

Pure everchanging form that I am
a speech of blood and bone
my life's journey
an unfolding stream of symbols
of love and hate, discovery and ignorance, beauty and ugliness
trying to find the middle way between these extremes
I have been written into a temporary existence
for the viewing pleasure and playful pure expression
of the only poet there is and ever will be

I hope she enjoys reading me

I
am a poem
a juxtaposition
of l e t t e r s , symbols, words
waiting
to be discovered
by
you