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Not a Question Anymore

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" Who am I? " is not a question any more.

It has vanished.

 

The steep depth has no flavor.

The moment has no taste.

Even *intent* has slipped beyond

the edge of knowing,

Like a dark sun

slipped past the edge of time.

 

 

 

 

(Bill)

 

 

 

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Nisargadatta , " Bill Rishel " <plexus@x> wrote:

>

>

> " Who am I? " is not a question any more.

> It has vanished.

>

> The steep depth has no flavor.

> The moment has no taste.

> Even *intent* has slipped beyond

> the edge of knowing,

> Like a dark sun

> slipped past the edge of time.

>

 

What a tasteless poem you've contributed!

 

Taste buds sprout and colors appear.

 

The winged leaf flies to the stationary grasshopper.

 

Love,

Twiggy

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