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Writer's pictureRyan Burton

AGENTS OF THE GURU


our kisses of death are full of nothing at all

there is no path to reality no way to immediacy

because all paths are reality and all ways are immediacy


there’s no path and time is only a dream

flailing in the void, holding to things and selves

that are only mist in mornings that never happened


to awaken there must be sleeping

to enlighten there must be ignorance

to go there, here is implied but dichotomies are non-existent and only in imagination


to gain there must be lack, in loss something must be had yet what’s being held to and what’s being pushed away are reality only


in this there is no enlightenment and the entire universe is extinguished in each moment yet even moments are not


agents of the guru our kisses of death are full of nothing at all, in our love

freedom which is not actually there

only exists with bondage


designations are without significance

the world of bodies and drama are none other than Dharmakaya

reality without stain

liberation is to know you were never born

there was no such thing as dreaming


Kabir said “in useless play you will not find the way so set your course and go”

yet there's no play no course and no way, no finding, no going

you never left your fathers house and all your dreaming

was only ignorance dancing

ignorance like dreaming cannot be found


what is done or not is reality

the agents of the guru, the masters in the mainframe

the Lords of space and time know this well

sentient beings drowning in their own imagined worlds

the masters of reality out of compassion descend into the

dream to wake us from suffering and pain


there really is nothing to gain from me and nothing

you could possibly give me, there is no had or having

no coming or going, no movement in time


I came

I saw

I died


in this afterlife of which somehow I still remain

all I do is talk and for reasons mysterious you listen

agendas are for beings of which I no longer am

I left this world and all that held me and now in glorious splendor

my kisses give the death I underwent


freed from all heres and nows

freed from all places and spaces in time

the annihilation of conception and imagination

verily there is no birth and thus no death


the Christ said baptism was to be twice born which implies

to be twice dead and that is the meaning of unborn


there really is no way to gain what you are

for all that is gained and all that is lost is reality only

the beginning is to see there are no beginnings

the end of self is to realize no self


dichotomies and wants blown asunder

incinerated by the light of truth

that really you never moved nor did you ever change

and the drama of your life was only for entertainment

giving the ancient one a dream of forgetfulness

only to eventually awaken as reality

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