Filling entirely
the forest of words
with amazement
I am
as I pretend to know
the reasons
I contemplate.

Creating
the image
of who I am
from a forest
with falling scraps
which I believe
is enlightened.

Blindly attracted
to the mystery
of not knowing
who I am
as if in its obscurity
laid the principia
of knowledge.

Driven radically
by the force
of the untamed
curiosity
I am
as others fall asleep,
so I can expel
their demons
into the wilderness
of their minds.

Finding
who I am
by uncovering
the roots
of the tree of life
as if in my depths
were your roots,
and in my secrets
were your depths.

Just like
the infinite cycle
of knowing
to let you
know,
and
of knowing
to let me
know
who
we
are.

Is there a forest
of enlightenment?

Why can’t I see
by thinking in it?

If it produces light,
why is it so blinding?

Neither the tree of science
nor the fruits of phenomenology
will liberate you from your pain.

Open your eyes,
but as you do
remember the forest,
remember the words,
remember their darkness
because if the forest
is enlightened,
what was dark,
in extreme light…

Will make you
go blind!

If you
are not willing
to let go,
then
the forest of words
is your best bet.

Darkness is safe
if you feel
its rhythm in peace.

Brightness is safe
if you are willing
to let go of you.

If neither
brightness
nor darkness
is your style,
then make
a new composite
one that has no blindness,
one that has no darkness,
so better be whole,
be faithful to your
rhythm of truth.

Signature Lina Ru