Dzogchen

I speak the truth,
Simple and naked,
Yet people turn away,
Ashamed.
People prefer impressive follies –
Glamorous gurus,
Exotic doctrines and disciples,
Mysterious and impressive rites and titles,
Miracles empty of essence.
Their babble fills the spaces
Between the worlds.
Their cacophony, samsara.
Their mind play, the illusory
Domain of phenomena.
Such is the way of religion.
But the truth is like a new-born babe,
Simple, naked, innocent.
There is naught to do but gaze,
Abiding in the wonder
Of the mother
Holding her babe on her breast,
Her heart’s throb sensible.
Such is the way of emptiness,
Besides which there is naught.
I am the mother,
And I too the babe.

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