In the bardo
With no agenda in our shelf,
having become the witness self,
our gentle touch and mindful eye,
allows life to flow by itself.
There yet are moments when we sigh,
since thought tempests take time to die
but for the most part, we are still
and in the vast void, wingless fly.
We sense in heart, bliss nectar spill
and drink greedily to our fill,
which is of course to steady mind,
surrendering to God our will.
Thoughts slow down and we become kind,
our head and heart, with love aligned
and as we slowly vaporise,
fears and desires no longer bind.
This oh monk, is the way we rise,
ceasing to weigh, measure or size,
merging soul with the all-that-is,
feeling each heartbeat in surprise.
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