Reaching for the Brass Ring on the Nirvana Merrygoround

Having never known a sage, I have not had
The chance to ask if one's attainment of nirvana
Lasts, or must be sought again. It must be
Sought repeatedly, I think, as satisfaction
Is anathema to DNA, and, truly, that is all
One is: a wretched process grasping madly
To sustain itself. One can't be satisfied for long,
As hunger strikes, or horniness, or an
Attenuated element of either, social striving,
Jars the quiet mind. The sage, disturbed,
Must grit his teeth, and scuttle toward some
Silent place to make himself what he is not,
And claim that he is calm.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 118 times
Written on 2019-01-04 at 20:45

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