I know with certainty
Only that I exist.

But what I am…
I've no “idea”.

Some say “Consciousnes”.
Some say “Emptiness”.

Some say This,
Some say That.

Concept… theory… conjecture.

This mind, too, desires certainty,
But the Heart is having none of it.

What remained when “i” vanished?
This… Unlocatable Aliveness?

I've no “idea”.

What is this Ineffable Sublimity,
That Shines Radiant in the Heart?

I've no “idea”.

It matters not what you call it,
Or how you describe it.

What matters…
Is that you come to the Experience…

And Dissolve in your Tea.