Classic Poem

I said, Well then, do I
have so very little?
— always hungry and
sobbing through my fiddle.

He said, But hunger is
all the flavor I have.
I'm in the clutches of
the one who makes me cry.

I said, Well then, do I
have so very little?
— hope always flying off
on its crippled wings.

He said, Greater than flying
the confines of the nest.
In a twinkling the lightning
blows away reality —
praise be to the cycle
of birth and birth again.

I said, Well then, do I
have so very little?
I will do and I will get,
then I'll throw away these rags.

The answer came: the sandal paste,
rubbed away to nothing, found itself.
In " me " alone there's no being
but in the eyes of you and me meeting.
cloud water water cloud
if I am merely to be blotted out —
how much has entered into me!
dying for you, blotted out.

With hope I've come to make an offering.
You say to me, Blot out God —
come into me, I am the offering,
futile all this weeping.

I said, Well then, Sir,
have I so very little?
All the " mine " has gone empty,
and my plate is bare.

He said, So long as one
grain is left over
my full essential form cannot
fit snug into the heart.
Picking and choosing while all is empty
I climb atop emptiness,
take light for my vehicle
and come learning you.

Oh what a fool I used to be!
A great king was I then,
but I sold away the ruling
of the world — and walked
to beg for a fistful of dust.
I begged in my own house,
staring at my own door.
The Supreme Lord made me laugh
and called me into the dark.