Stillness, I disrupt it to help order my thoughts once more.
We few here have faced our keepers and our fellows, we have done the impossible and that makes us mighty. We are free within the walls of our prison, for it has become a school and a punishment no longer.
We took what little was offered to us, grains of rice unto a starving man. We ate of them, yet they did not diminish. As we, as I looked closer at them, they could not be used up.
This copying of books, this entrance to The Way seems so easy, yet is so difficult. What labor is it to drag a brush and ink across paper? So little, and yet so much. Through writing the words so many times, I have discovered the usefulness and their uselessness. They served as a bridge to here, and now when I turn back the bridge I built with them has disappeared. I am not bond by dogma, nor ruled by anything but The Way. It has self destructed and left only itself.
I am hungry, but they call me ring leader, and refuse to feed me. I do not hunger anymore anyway.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment