The Ox Herding Poems IV: Dark Night of the Soul
Promises of a soft path textured with sensation gives way to shards of history. Shadows sharpen. Cutting in places that are slow to repair. The fight ensues. Predictable. Strong as an oxen my phantom solitude. Illusions abound. Allured by musings. Sensual harvest. The body~mind. Crushing loneliness in the self surrender. Mourning my addictions. Am I really so alone? With no one to blame? Casting my net of judgment. It dissolves like sugar. Only to resurface as a Brahman’s discernment. Knowing. None of this real.
A mourning bell rings. Tundra. Unwinding tapestry yarn. Pathogens of my soul lose their grip in the twilight of a fixed gaze. Opening. White light penetrates dark night. Illuminating the Ox once and for all. Illusions. Taming. Fear’s shield slips back into the legion ranks. Desire’s jester follows suit. The crown opens wide. Chakras smile. Winter’s teeth fall to rain. Pause. Quiet. Again with a belly full of breath. My heart springs a dandelion. Fleeting. Perennial. Capitulated understanding. Illogical and beautiful. . . Life.
____ Taming
inertias
habitual ____ tangle
I drink where thoughts become islets
pungent
with desire
distractions
hemmed ____ with cultivation
drawing wine labels on reformatory walls
etched in fear
fooling no one
reciprocating
loneliness ____ sagacious struggle
dark nights of the soul
the self
battered
alone
breathing ____ separation
with a fresh bouquet of doubt
hinting
at deception
suchness
being ____ outside time
all at once becomes obvious
the earth fell away
and I never moved
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