Thinking of Gurdijieff

Right now we’re cruising at a constant speed,
although the scenes outside the window blur;
each fleeting breath a entire universe,
a moment pressed between to come and gone.

It seems as though we’re standing at dead still,
the center of a mighty hurricane —
the worldly rabble rages all around,
its energy consuming and consumed.

Beyond the edge of our imagined grasp
the whirling dervish of ourselves, immersed
in the experience of being one
with what our conscious minds cannot conceive,
spins shadows with which we construct the world
to serve as both our paradise and cell.

06 JAN 2005

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