Vol. XLIX, No.8.
Show me your face before you were born
Before your mask came to be,
Claiming itself to be solid and real
I'm this and I'm that - don 't you see.
But the mask is not what I'm asking about,
Or how it appears to me,
It's who’s wearing it that is hard to grasp,
That's always behind what I see.
Can the eye see itself?
Do the senses make up what I am?
Can the seff see the self
Or is it all a non-graspable game?
Did Siddhartha see so clearly
That he could let it all go?
Or in seeing,
Was it already gone?
What is a wave apart from the sea,
But a tormenting way of seeing
Did you believe you were ever away
Nothing to know, but be-ing