Between the Will and Attention
The mind is a little crow,
a double sided sword,
where will and attention
play, while agape feeds
the rarest crow, desire
feeds the common crow.
Trapped by passions
we feel that attention
serves its master, will,
trapped by a quest
toward the freedom
of our will begins until
there’s the realization
that attention is prior
to the will, little crow
finds itself confused
as to why we’re using
only one colour of itself,
as if it were a katana,
suffering pierces winds
as desire escapes limits,
inattentive to the mind’s
labyrinth, surrounded
helpless, what guides
the will is my desires,
a sword dripping blood,
a little crow crowing out
loud: why haven’t you seen
the purest side of me yet?
The fire of the will burns
my mind until it seems
there is no attention, only
will, lost in the passages
of will, the mad hatter
starts playing with swords
I’ve never seen before,
hatter drinks the question:
but where is the good?
Swords burn the hatter’s
throat as if what is, is pain,
but suddenly the hatter
coughs, a feather floats,
the rarest crow escapes
the hatter’s mouth, pain
as a traveler’s scabbard,
stays, pays attention to it,
notices the double sword,
notices the bloody sword,
notices the common crow,
notices the rarest crow,
there is no will, attention
is blinking instants where
the will isn’t able to exist,
attention is that bright but
as all hatters know, what is
important is not freedom
from the will, if we’re free
to blink, eyes won’t get
dry, blinking, it’s a rare
crow, blinking, blinking,
it’s a common crow, what
was used as a single edge
sword is no longer true,
from now on attention is
moved by what I love
as the will is moved by
what I feel, because if what
I love is not a feeling, it is
the wind, mountains, lakes,
waves and the good itself
until I can dissolve myself
into a silence–in-between
attention and the will:
Intermission (video) {
秋:稲妻を通す我が糸の光は
いなずまを
とおすわがいと
のひかりは
through lightning bolts
my threads, my yarns
of gleaming light… are?
夏:カラス座で線香花火を紐解く
からすざで
せんこうはなび
をひもとく
at Corvus constellation...
incense sparkling toy fireworks
unraveling, discovering
[.....(myself).....]
}
What I am no longer
operates not on what
I want, but on a delicate
dance between what I will
and what I attend, what I will
pushes, what I attend pulls,
what I attend ‘defends’,
what I ‘will’ attacks,
this realization dissolves
the Kogarasu Maru into
合気道1 as the crows sing
as if yesterday hadn’t ever,
tomorrow won’t ever be born,
poly-phonically whispering:
Let go of the tapping,
from raven here
to raven everywhere,
from raven there
to raven nowhere,
free from (n)evermore
to be forevermore.