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It is, it's own explanation

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Countless waves rise and fall

 

The movement never stops.

 

Once I pointed at the waves

 

Trying to explain

 

Their power and their height

 

Not noticing the splendour

 

In which this all took place.

 

Mesmerized by sight of movement

 

Time and time again

 

I tried to catch the waves,

 

With all the means I could invent;

 

They were so dear to me.

 

But all the tricks did fail.

 

 

 

 

A compassionate wave saw my despair

 

And pointed out to me

 

That movements are not to be caught

 

By a movement itself.

 

If I am movement, I replied,

 

Do tell me then, who moves?

 

 

 

 

The wave just rose and then it fell.

 

No wave was left to tell.

 

It just returned from where it came,

 

The water, quiet now,

 

As if it never wore that form,

 

Displayed a blinking smile

 

When it was mirroring the sun,

 

That was playing in its turn

 

With a cloud, just passing by,

 

The game of hide and seek.

 

 

 

And this play, this movement,

 

in order to be performed

 

needed no questions, so it proves,

 

No answers were required.

 

It gets performed, just as the waves,

 

Like springing from its source,

 

Which, as rumours go,

 

Is mentioned as no-movement.

 

And it returns apparently to this same silent stage,

 

As the no-movement, which, as it is said,

 

has never ceased to be.

 

 

 

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The formless form forms no-form in its own

unending wave.

 

And finally in a droplet of un-perception,

the snake consumes itself.

 

Nothing ever rises.

Nothing ever falls.

No one ever sees this.

 

 

-

sandeep

Nisargadatta

Saturday, April 10, 2004 9:57 PM

It is, it's own explanation

 

 

 

 

 

 

Countless waves rise and fall

 

The movement never stops.

 

Once I pointed at the waves

 

Trying to explain

 

Their power and their height

 

Not noticing the splendour

 

In which this all took place.

 

Mesmerized by sight of movement

 

Time and time again

 

I tried to catch the waves,

 

With all the means I could invent;

 

They were so dear to me.

 

But all the tricks did fail.

 

 

 

 

A compassionate wave saw my despair

 

And pointed out to me

 

That movements are not to be caught

 

By a movement itself.

 

If I am movement, I replied,

 

Do tell me then, who moves?

 

 

 

 

The wave just rose and then it fell.

 

No wave was left to tell.

 

It just returned from where it came,

 

The water, quiet now,

 

As if it never wore that form,

 

Displayed a blinking smile

 

When it was mirroring the sun,

 

That was playing in its turn

 

With a cloud, just passing by,

 

The game of hide and seek.

 

 

 

And this play, this movement,

 

in order to be performed

 

needed no questions, so it proves,

 

No answers were required.

 

It gets performed, just as the waves,

 

Like springing from its source,

 

Which, as rumours go,

 

Is mentioned as no-movement.

 

And it returns apparently to this same silent stage,

 

As the no-movement, which, as it is said,

 

has never ceased to be.

 

 

 

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What is?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nisargadatta , sandeep <sandeepc@b...> wrote:

>

>

>

>

> Countless waves rise and fall

>

> The movement never stops.

>

> Once I pointed at the waves

>

> Trying to explain

>

> Their power and their height

>

> Not noticing the splendour

>

> In which this all took place.

>

> Mesmerized by sight of movement

>

> Time and time again

>

> I tried to catch the waves,

>

> With all the means I could invent;

>

> They were so dear to me.

>

> But all the tricks did fail.

>

>

>

>

> A compassionate wave saw my despair

>

> And pointed out to me

>

> That movements are not to be caught

>

> By a movement itself.

>

> If I am movement, I replied,

>

> Do tell me then, who moves?

>

>

>

>

> The wave just rose and then it fell.

>

> No wave was left to tell.

>

> It just returned from where it came,

>

> The water, quiet now,

>

> As if it never wore that form,

>

> Displayed a blinking smile

>

> When it was mirroring the sun,

>

> That was playing in its turn

>

> With a cloud, just passing by,

>

> The game of hide and seek.

>

>

>

> And this play, this movement,

>

> in order to be performed

>

> needed no questions, so it proves,

>

> No answers were required.

>

> It gets performed, just as the waves,

>

> Like springing from its source,

>

> Which, as rumours go,

>

> Is mentioned as no-movement.

>

> And it returns apparently to this same silent stage,

>

> As the no-movement, which, as it is said,

>

> has never ceased to be.

>

>

>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Guest guest

Yer trippin..................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nisargadatta , sandeep <sandeepc@b...> wrote:

>

>

>

>

> Countless waves rise and fall

>

> The movement never stops.

>

> Once I pointed at the waves

>

> Trying to explain

>

> Their power and their height

>

> Not noticing the splendour

>

> In which this all took place.

>

> Mesmerized by sight of movement

>

> Time and time again

>

> I tried to catch the waves,

>

> With all the means I could invent;

>

> They were so dear to me.

>

> But all the tricks did fail.

>

>

>

>

> A compassionate wave saw my despair

>

> And pointed out to me

>

> That movements are not to be caught

>

> By a movement itself.

>

> If I am movement, I replied,

>

> Do tell me then, who moves?

>

>

>

>

> The wave just rose and then it fell.

>

> No wave was left to tell.

>

> It just returned from where it came,

>

> The water, quiet now,

>

> As if it never wore that form,

>

> Displayed a blinking smile

>

> When it was mirroring the sun,

>

> That was playing in its turn

>

> With a cloud, just passing by,

>

> The game of hide and seek.

>

>

>

> And this play, this movement,

>

> in order to be performed

>

> needed no questions, so it proves,

>

> No answers were required.

>

> It gets performed, just as the waves,

>

> Like springing from its source,

>

> Which, as rumours go,

>

> Is mentioned as no-movement.

>

> And it returns apparently to this same silent stage,

>

> As the no-movement, which, as it is said,

>

> has never ceased to be.

>

>

>

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