Only the illusion greets you as you stand in an empty garden
filled with roses that have no fragrance and
birds that have no voice.
But you feel awake, like a clever little boy on Christmas morning
hoping to catch Santa in the act.
But even the chimney is built on a foundation of emptiness
that tugs at the corner of your soul, trying to show you
there is nothing here to satisfy the
hunger in your belly.
The food you need doesn’t grow in false gardens
planted with blurred ideas of right and wrong
because the garden you see does not exist
and that keeps you empty.
There are so many crows sitting on dead branches
waiting to eat what you think you want,
ready to devour all your attachments
if you let them.
First you must know they lie to you to consume
all your attention, they tell you stories that keep them
awakened in you because if you let the crows eat —
everything that is you
Surprisingly it is the death of you
that suddenly wakes you up
and silences your fear.
It is the first real breath you have ever taken.