That old zen saw
Ride your horse, goes that old zen saw,
along the edge of a sword, observing calmly –
to one side, the outer forms;
to the other, the inner realm.
Ride between, grasping neither, clean
as a whistle, not a hoof print left behind.
Bodhidharma counseled outside –
no engagement, no entanglements,
no arousal or intervention.
Inside – no indulgences, no rejection,
no denial or shying away.
Settle down
where there is no settling down –
in the saddle of the horse,
along the sword’s edge; ride on,
a part of neither, caught not in the dust-mire
of the outer nor the seductive fantasy of the inner.
O child of God, you are, apparently,
the whole of both and more.
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