Undone

Mistakenly believing we’re body-mind, bewildered by fear and enslaved by desire, we fail to see head and heart are not aligned with love, so the objects we seek to acquire, fixates attention, gripping us in a bind, consigning our soul to the funeral pyre. Adding to our woes is conditioned belief, which unless undone, will give us no relief. In the void of cessation, we’re always free but presence soon returns to habit routine, caged in turbid tempests, tied to our mind tree, borne of heart’s dark desires, not easy to wean, unless with soft whispers of love we agree, for it’s then that the truth unseen may be seen. Making thus in staid stillness, love our soul’s scribe, we imbibe divine bliss, mind cannot describe.