The Mind is like rare taste buds
that once upon a time
required sweet and sickly things;
and thought them quite sublime.
But later still, when wiser,
it requires something more;
a little less simplistic;
with more substance at its core.
There comes a time moreover,
when the food which makes it sing
is the subtle pulse of truth itself;
and the essence of 'NO THING';
The question I would ask those,
who claim this cannot be:
How could such hunger then be quenched
if no food were in the sea ?
But truly do I say it's done;
and all kinds of food are there;
from simple loves
and simple likes;
to ones which are so rare.
* * *