This poem is of the Taoist tradition, treasure of parent opposites…
No Locks on Adores
I found myself
In that plays
The greatest presence
Away with words
The keys of silence
Wear there
No locks on adores
Soully able
To stand
Still
Holy unfurled
Entranced
By awe there is
Every wrinkle unfolding
As lightening unbolting
Treasuring beyond belief
All that
Is mine
Unjarred
NOTE: To fully appreciate this poem, the second to last line, “Is mine,” is a triple pun: 1) mine as that which I possess; 2) mine as a place where one extracts treasure; and 3) mine as mind, as in mind unjarred. Treasure on…
