Yogic...
searching for clarity
the best of which is an empty slate
that which we mistake sometimes
for clarity actually is one that contains nothing
as though
emptiness is one of those that has
nothing inside it
as though when things are in their fullness
like a flower in full bloom
as though
fullness is mess and must be
avoided
as though fullness is pain and emptiness
is unloading and must heretofore
be marked as the
ballroom
happiness so to speak
messy is noise and the empty window is clear
but the pool of water without the disturbance of the wind
is full and yet
mirrors some clarifications
that you can see your face unadulterated by grief
undiluted by any dropp of lamentation
one dives farther to see what is real and perhaps
sleep for a while
drowsiness of reality
illusion is a little bit tipsy because of so much thoughts
unthink, undream,
unmind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Remember The Jar In The Yard Praying To The Moon
if you remember me
you must remember too the
empty earthen jar
places at the middle of
the garden
it has no water
it has only air
but the flowers in the garden
adore its
invisible fullness
even when it rains
it feels the emptiness
of the waters
and even when the sun shines
all day
it fills the fullness
of the light
for in truth
there is always reason
for one
who never ceases to live
to crave for
even, death, to know
the beauty of
what is there
and is there not.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Circuitous Route Of Existence
i should have stopped
a long time ago, i should have ceased
like a light feeding upon itself
a candle eating all its
body of wax,
i should have done it earlier, quit and leave
and not look back,
i never did it, and there must be a reason
an explanation for this addiction,
a justification for moving on,
i am not saying that it is you,
neither myself,
perhaps it is this emptiness that is seeking
fullness
this fullness that empties itself because it is not at comfortable
when things are heavy
on a journey,
perhaps it is a circle,
and there is no knowing where to start where to end
nothing marked,
all the same, dance of life, monotonous, consuming,
and yet never knowing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hand Me Downs
Ive taken so many down
Ive helped them all to dismount
Ive followed so many down
I take their hand me downs
All with hope
All with hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
All with hope
All with hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
To us all
Everything that I believe
Crawls from underneath the streets
Everything I truly love
Comes from somewhere far above
Everything that I believe
Is wrong with you is wrong with me
Everything I truly love
I love in you and I love in me
So give me hope
Give me hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
To us all
You swear you cant swim the river
(Ive become the beggar now)
(youve become the saint somehow)
But I saw you running to jump in
(Ive become the beggar now)
(youve become the saint somehow)
I swore Id never be your sinner
(Ive become the beggar now)
(youve become the saint somehow)
Til I held your sin
Hand me downs
Now you ask me why Im here
The same as you
Im scared - its fear
Ive become the beggar now
And youve become the saint somehow
Twist the words and place the blame
And tell me now arent we the same
Tripping in our yellow feet
Checking underneath our sheets
For some hope
Give me hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
Give me hope
Give me hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
To us all
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My Silence I Am Breaking
i am an empty vessel
why not fill me up a little
with your cool water
it will really matter
i am an empty vessel
for a long time now
wanting to be contained
in your fullness
you may please
fill me up to my brim
if it is possible with you
fill me with your cool waters
let me overflow
with your love
and understanding
in my emptiness
i am howling
in my silence
i am breaking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death...
i lift an empty conch
near my hear
i hear songs and i
carefully listen
and i close my eyes
and see places
i see emptiness
i feel the fullness
barefoot i walk on the
white sandy beach
i left the empty conch
and carry something else
my heart understands
my face nods
my body is light
and the sun is bright
the air is salty
God is mighty.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Earthen Jar In The Garden During The Rain
it is there
it has a mouth gaping
filling itself
with the rain
this is a rainy
day and it
will rain here
for weeks
the jar takes
all the water
drinks it like
it is a thirsty
woman
yet just like us
it can never be full
even for weeks
or for years
there is always
a spill
of what is full
there is always
the emptiness
even in
the physical fullness
the jar is there
alone
it is raining and it
will rain for weeks
the jar never breaks
it is
alone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sigh Of The Returnee
it is not the fullness that
overflows
it is the emptiness
of the house when you arrive
when the door that feigns the abundance within the room
finally surrenders
to the brokenness of the hinges
it is the fullness that spreads
too quickly like an ink of the squid
from the previous paths
of its escapades
from the threats of the predating ell
it is the silence that fills
the nothingness that sings
the unmoving furniture dressed in dust
the tempura that is left uneaten
and now
filled with
molds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Emptiness Is Both An Illusion And An Irony
emptiness is always an illusion
which carries with it an irony.
when i look at it, as its content shows,
it has nothing
bare hands, opening fingers,
an empty transparent ball, it can
tell your future, it can dig your
past,
thinking that it is spacious, i went
inside it, pierce myself though it
only to find that that are so many
crowding elements in there and they
are choking me and you who is looking
outside it, thinks that nothing is happening
but then the struggle is horrible, quick
and even deadly, so many hang themselves in
empty air, and lose their lives, because
you cannot see the body of breathing,
when you learn to live with it however,
you become full, emptiness is its irony,
its antithesis, for how can you ever be full
if you have never known how to empty yourself?
the face of emptiness is a mist, and you touch
it, you will hold a forest, so many black birds,
myriad exotic orchids, so many blending sounds of
trees screaming, of creeks flowing of waterfalls
cascading that you can relate to the locks of
your hair and the hairs of your armpits,
inside it is too personal to be told, outside it
are so many denials with the faces of the people
that you have loved before, and then you decide
to stay at a distance, you are like a tree
dark as a shadow, counting the hours
when the sun finally fades away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Emptiness Comes
EMPTINESS COMES
Emptiness comes-
There is nothing to say
Nothing to write-
But Nothing is for me only nothing
It is not the goal and the meaning-
Egolessness belongs to saints of a certain kind
I am not a saint-
Emptiness disappears with the writing
Words and meanings come-
I suppose one will be empty forever
When one is alive
What can Emptiness give?
I have written against the Emptiness
And am less empty now for now-
Thank God I no longer feel empty now-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Emptiness
Emptiness can't be filled
until the heart is at rest.
Fullness can't be alleviated
until the heart is blessed
with the sweetness of a springtime day
that you find has come your way.
Emptiness has left a line
running from my breast
to my waist.
The only way to remove it
is to have you taste
my sadness.
Then it will be taken away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Hymn XIX: Rejoice Evermore With Angels Above
Rejoice evermore With angels above,
In Jesus's power, In Jesus's love:
With glad exultation Your triumph proclaim,
Ascribing salvation To God and the Lamb.
Thou, Lord, our relief In trouble hast been;
Hast saved us from grief, Hast saved us from sin;
The power of thy Spirit Hath set our hearts free,
And now we inherit All fullness in thee;
All fullness of peace, All fullness of joy,
And spiritual bliss That never shall cloy:
To us it is given In Jesus to know
A kingdom of heaven, A heaven below.
No longer we join While sinners invite,
Nor envy the swine Their brutish delight;
Their joy is all sadness, Their mirth is all vain,
Their laughter is madness, Their pleasure is pain.
O might they at last With sorrow return,
The pleasures to taste For which they were born;
Our Jesus receiving, Our happiness prove,
The joy of believing, The heaven of love!
poem by Charles Wesley
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Until I get Over you
So many dreams inside my mind
That I pray it will come true
I have been searching, deep down on my soul
In a lonely river I have found
Like an empty shell longing for love
The one thing that I try to hold on too
I woke today thinking of you
Miserably starring the empty sky
The sun won’t shine since you went away
Seems like rain pouring everyday
Every night I sit by my window
Softly speaking on gust of wind
Faded shadow on obscure nights
That painted the sorrow of life
Wearing my mask on silence
Pretending it would be alright
A grief of a smile you will see in my eyes
Such a pity face that reflects on me
Lonely I am don’t look at me
Searching for love, where can I find.
Just a litter of tears to fill the emptiness
A ton of laughter to ease the pain
A half way of distance just to feel you
Until I get over you.
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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Conversations With Hune (Part Three)
if the child becomes a parent,
and the parent becomes a child...
is growing older an illusion?
does salvation denote
being saved from oneself,
or from all else?
is prayer something we say,
something we feel,
or something we do?
or merely the act of breathing?
do whales laugh at our ignorance?
do dogs weep for our fears?
do birds intimately know freedom?
if so, why are we
the 'dominant species'?
or are we whales,
dogs and birds...
and just too blind
to know it?
is the truth then complex,
or just so simple that it seems...
who built the walls between us?
was it not us?
if we could put god in a thimble,
and then took it out to look...
would it not appear to be empty?
is empty then the cup turned down?
or are we looking at it from the wrong side?
could it be then that empty is the cup filled?
and that fullness is found in empty?
is love then a returning
to what we never left?
are we not then the wind,
collecting bodies!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Was It Something Wrong?
and so the moon
in its fullness finally kissed
the face
of the river
and the river
shimmered
as though it felt the coldness
of the rain
the moon asks the wind
if there is something wrong
with love
the winds hushed
as though something happened
as though
kissing is shameful
when it is done with the fullness
of desire
the grasses
who buries everything
past and future
as usual, are as silent
as though
nothing is memorable
like the indifference of the stones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unthinks-balloon
Ask a saint
or ask a balloon
how fullness
can be emptiness;
how joyful they both are!
*
[leaning on Rumi]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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9
if you leave
leave at once
for i have nothing
to say,
others ask
what to say when someone
you love says
about leaving?
i say
go, go, find what is lacking
find that which must complete you
and if you are empty still
do not come back to me
for i am empty too
how can emptiness fill another
emptiness?
mine will always be an invitation
i care
but once refused
there is no where
where you can find me
i am also gone
searching what you have been searching
but now it
shall not be you
i'll have someone else
who can fill
my own emptiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Meditation Poem 1 - Emptiness of the Mind
emptiness of the mind
a realm bigger than this head can hold
bigger than dead could hold
it is when you are absorbed in
the blossoming of a night flower
every second it scents time like heaven
emptiness of the mind
it is when your mind fills a huge boulder
like a soul, sprawled over the universe
taking in all with solid stoicism
a desire frozen by coldness
harder to break than rock
emptiness of the mind
it is when your mind cast a bigger mystery
than the black hole
so vast and empty you realise the zen of things
that there are things surviving on emptiness,
just being empty
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Something That I Have Not Touched With My Hands
while in bed i am enumerating a lot of things
that i really don't know
what they are and where they come from
and what use could they be
in my emptiness i think that something fuller this time
is what i need
like hot water perhaps for a cup for an afternoon tea
but the image is too ordinary for a whim
of this imagination something's got to be better this time
something that i have not touched with my hand
that i have not tasted with my tongue
i know, i know what it is, but i know that i cannot have it
and so i just lay in bed, enumerate the other things
silly and wise, and empty and full, and paths and mountains
and labyrinths, until i am a flash in full speed of images
until i am sleepy and then i forget what is it that i know that i want and yet
i cannot have
and i begin counting sheep and ships and imagine the whole ocean blanket
to my body and
face and then
i sleep
i am tired and when this happens
i do not mind what happens next and
i do not wish about anything
i am done.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Without fullness of experience, length of days is nothing. When fullness of life has been achieved, shortness of days is nothing. That is perhaps why the young have usually so little fear of death; they live by intensities that the elderly have forgotten.
quote by Lewis Mumford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soul must purge out.
When you pity,
When you are true
And when you lend
You will feel that
You are relieved
Out of what you have got.
When you obtain,
When you attain
And when you gain,
You will feel that
You have got enough
Feeling a kind of fullness..
Soul is a bowl,
Which when in full,
Must empty too
To get rid of
Constipation.
The greedy must note it.
26.11.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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