Death and resurrection
Each moment, teaches the Bhagavad Gita,
we start from scratch. Made up on the spot.
Arise, flare and vanish along with the whole
shimmering universe that surrounds us
while clinging desperately
to the illusion of continuity.
Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva in turn –
ageless existence, perpetually generated,
in which we emerge every moment
as immaculate new creatures, nonexistent and eternal.
Why fear annihilation? ask the Mystics.
Why harbor shame and dread?
When you own not a whit of autonomy.
When existence itself is impermanence –
made up on the spot, an effulgence
of ceaseless death and resurrection.
O child of God, only your dream-self
is less substantial than the dream of creation.
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