The Waltz

One, two, three, one, two, three—
Three steps in everything
One, two, three, one, two, three—
Birth, life, and death.

First, I am lost in it,
Then I give names to it,
Then I can handle it
Naming no more.

(Intermission in the dance:
Calling names is a well-respected habit. The tighter your rolodex the better, it seems.
Yes and no. When you’ve figured quite many names, interestingly enough, knowing that joy is named joy doesn’t make joy brighter, and knowing that pain is called pain doesn’t make pain duller, you see.)

Yes, I can feel it,
Yes, I can’t help it,
Yet any suchness
Is never there.

First, I don’t know it,
Later I claim it mine,
But in the core of it,
No-one and none.

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