Wednesday, July 29, 2009


To and fro goes the Way
But how many people could remember?
Thousands, millions, billions have forgotten
The fall from Tao

The Ancients pointed the way home
Since they had remembered
Upon seeing the various signposts
Return to Tao, they urge

Not to forsake the multitude
They laid down means and ways
Cultivate essence and virtues
To empty the mind and rectify the heart

Sit and forget
Emotions subside
In peace and harmony
Contemplate the Light

Yin Yang interchanges
Forms and Emptiness
Earth and then Heaven
Stars and Galaxies

How could the multitude remember?
An eternity ago
A journey so far
The thousands, millions, billions ….

Immortals and Buddhas sing
Face the ancestor and the eight trigrams
The golden flower blooms
See the original self

Perhaps then
We could remember
The way we were


Tiffany said...

I have not forgotten,
dear friend.

I read the texts too,
dear friend.

I sit in stillness, alone,
dear friend.

And feel that the two is One.

The multitude is busy,
dear friend,
With Britney and Micheal and TV,
my friend.

But one at a time, they fall,
into the Way of the Tao.

Lighting the path, as you do,
dear friend,
leaving pebbles along the path -
all of this is helpful,
dear friend,
to those still in the dark.

Allan said...

Hi Tiffany!

It is good to know that fellow travelers of the Way are reading this blog. Welcome.
What are taught in the ancient texts if practised correctly could ‘send’ the right persons home.

Enjoy your holidays in Malaysia. Avoid the various types of curries if you cannot take hot food. They can burn your tongue.


Tiffany said...

:) Hi Allan

You have so much written here - so much information. It will take me some time to have a look around. I hope you won't mind the occasional comment.

Thanks for the food tips! But ... they came a little late! :)


Anonymous said...

Your poem evoked the memory of a statue of Kwan Yin at Yale University art museum. I was taken into another world to witness the flow of ages of time passing, like rising and falling waves of a vast ocean - as though I was watching a film . It was pure compassion. Certainly not about my small being and emotions.
Of course you are writing of practical work.

Allan said...

Tiffany, time can be a good friend or not.

Anonymous, glad to know the poem also struck a chord with you.

Perhaps we all tune into the same radio station!