[The following idea ding dong was kindly shared with us by Happy Cow's good friend Simon Drew. When he is not busy hanging out the washing on the Siegfried Line, Simon can be found on top of the world looking down on creation, laughing with the little dog, organising arranged marriages between chemical elements that no-one has discovered yet and running the online groups English Stuff and International Monthly Hatstand Day. If you are enjoying the game, why not leave a comment at the bottom of this page. You can sign in to the comments widget using your Facebook or Google accounts, or just leave a message without signing in. Or if verbal expression is just not your bag, just click on the 'Like' button instead. Enjoy!]
Somewhere a bell rings
the house is silent
everyone is asleep here
"It is all a game"
when does this game end?
Walking through the house
treading carefully
and on the street
looking back at the house
the light from my room
the sliver of a view
through the partly open window
a few photos
a water colour painting
so this is what these others see?
Somewhere the sun is rising
deep in my heart
or into the burning branches of a tree
somewhere these dust drops
have been given names
a palace
where all are silent
A bag of bottles beside the table
in this dream
and words
I do not write
it is only I who hold them back
I say goodbye
this dark before the dawn
Somewhere a bell rings
an atom spins
a fire burns
the body vast
more than vast
endless
the same as no where
no where no why no how
and to end the words here
would just be the dream
ending
not I who was never here
so
if they were to speak of
the wind chimes on the balcony
the sparkling black road under the street light
the perfume of forever dancing in the clouds
the tear drops rolling down the hills and valleys of a face
the forests of dog's coat, pacing in its yard
the hum of a thousand candles burning in the sky
the dream of the forgotten
and the endless word
the in and out breath, death and life
and other jokes recited in heaven and hell
if the lightning were to strike the void
and sand to turn to glass
and the sky to reveal the face I saw
in love letters to myself
the dream of this body which
protests with aches, of lips and hands so close
of finger tips touching
and those shattering shards of glass
would make a million mirrors
if the words were to be spoken
with solemnity of alpha and omega
what could I do but laugh?
ah, play your endless games through me
play this game of spaces and bridges
abysses and falling ashes, sparks
let them fall on the hills
for they are my tongue
if they were to speak of the endless dark
before light was born
and its sister
if they were to dream of endless streams of water
and an ocean
warm, steaming under a watchful gaze
if the door were to be opened
and everything to fall out of the toy cupboard
if all the strings were cut
and the puppets left to play with themselves
the fan keeps going
the floorboards hold back gravity
its past midnight
and
the empty glass has been filled again
"For our life is now, and the love of it is now. We love variety, the play of pain and pleasure, we are fascinated by contrasts. For this we need the opposites and their apparent separation. We enjoy them for a time and then get tired and crave for the peace and silence of pure Being. The cosmic heart beats ceaselessly." Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj
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