Oh, what trouble we create,
When we give name and form,
To the nameless and formless.
And oh, what harm we do,
When we declare our “belief” as “Truth”,
Decrying all others as “false”…
Forging a Sword of Ideology.
Whatever word we use to name,
However we interpret and describe,
We rend Heaven asunder…
The “Heaven” of Pure Being,
Where, in Formless Perfection,
Name and form never were…
Where concept, theory, and conjecture,
Never clouded the Sky, obscuring the Light…
Of Fullness, Completion, and Bliss.
Only the mind shouts this, not that,
While the Heart whispers…
Both, neither, Incomprehensible…
I… Am.
Ah… but look!
There!
Right there…
I, too, have created trouble!
It seems in the nature of things,
To name, describe, and declare,
Even if these are whispered in Love.
Only let us… in our naming,
In our describing,
In our declarations…
Be moved by Love, and do no harm.
