Myself

A vessel with no essence of its own-Only when hollow can it hold the more.

As empty as I made myself,When I painted Shiva, Him I became.

In beholding the feminine,a woman I became.

In gazing upon the flowers,their fragrance I became.

As I soaked in this grace of emptiness,A thinking mind could ask: What about yourself?

The spoon steeped in the soup cannot taste it.So I became the salt-melting,Merging with the Cosmic Self.