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Back and forth my thoughts change hue,
Their mood contorted and distorted
From top to bottom, from cloud to chasm,
They rise, they fall, their whim an assorted
Menagerie in a gilded cage,
Set to their motions in a gilded age...
Every concept that I share, every fact that I lay, every statement that I make; every desire that I fill, every feeling that I feel; every thought that I think; each of these sent elsewhere, o unchanging and self-lit life of life, is a moment not spent in you. How can I say that I love you with all of my heart when these things fill the majority of my day?
Slowly but surely the thoughts will give way,
They impress themselves poorly under the holy sway
Of silence emerging from the depth within,
No violence urging, just discipline
To ignore their cries, their pulling, their flow,
And direct due diligence deep below
The layers of the thoughts' desire to go without
Where they mingle as perception, idea and doubt.
"How goest thou," the curious may ask,
"To make progress positive in this, thine chosen task?"
The aim of the quest must first be found,
Tis blanketed beneath the chaos of sound
Which surrounds our ears daily and enters them fain,
We must keep the din out again and again,
For like the screen on which a projector shines
To show its show, our target defines
The background wherewith all sound depends,
Where quiet is found, where noisiness ends.
Extract that silence from the commotion and to it listen,
Though you'll hear it not your attention will glisten
Upon the formless indication of inmost being,
Practice and practice without remark on what you're seeing,
Because to see means the focus is yet not strong.
One must tune into the silence, that is it, for however long.
A few minutes to start is not amiss,
Then steady grow that time to succeed in this.
Eventually distracting thoughts/sounds (they're the same)
Will lose their impetus to arise and will begin to fade
Like the winner's worry in a one-time game,
Like the cool contents, in the summer, of a pitcher of lemonade.
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No poetry is good enough, though it were written eternal in the ink of the very stars themselves, by sheer dint of the fact that thought cannot lead the mind to the experience of pure consciousness, even as the shadow cast by an object lit by the sun cannot approach that light of the sun. Undiluted awareness reveals itself only in mental quiescence; i.e. silence; or "dynamic passivity," for alertness must be maintained throughout, otherwise you just fall asleep...again. Absolute attentiveness (viz. concentration and vigilance against drifting into revelry or sleep) and complete lack of thoughts is the state to strive for. Awareness aware of naught but being aware of awareness.
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