Golden Light

The leaves are golden,
and the eternal light, spreading over the still green willow,is golden too.
And you and me are made of golden rays which never dye.
And the Dalai Lama, a gray-haired man with Buddha smile, is teaching us,
that all religions are not worth a drop of blood,
poured into the sacrificial cup.

I see everything in 3D-mood, all at once:
all sounds, smells,
those touches of the crusty bark,
that rustling gopher in the straw.
They call it kinesthetics and kinesthesia.
First they expand the boundaries of the mind,
Then narrow it to a state of coma.
Pulsating Universe-Cerebellum and two tonsils.
And where is the "Ego", and where are the boundaries?
Whom brought in human form this time to this narrow corner,
where spruce trees fall and cranes and herons fly away?

"Time passes" - what an illusion, what a deception.
Total changes, fluidity.
They never need neither viewers nor chroniclers.
We enter this stream only seemingly,
because we're unaware we can see and hear only momentary disturbances,
superposition of immeasurable oscillations,
which are beyond our imagination and comprehension.

Don't talk!
Calm down!
Amen!

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© Valentin Luchenko, 2020