Losing the separate me...finding the nobody
The fool never gets tired
of three things:drinking strong winefrom his own heart,reaching the goalon the first stepof an infinite journey,and running his fingersthrough the wise furof a brown four-legged earthling.Now get good and lostuntil you find yourselfbeating at the doorof this fool’s hut.Knock and he'll cry,'Who's there?''It's me!' you'll reply.And he'll answer,'There's no room in here for me!'So you'll spend a thousandmore lifetimes praying,fasting, giving almsuntil one day, wearyof all your goodness,you'll wander to that hutand knock again.'Who's there?' he'll cry.'Nobody,' you'll answer.Then he'll open the doorand hug you with fierce joy,uncorking your heartso that you too can tastethe dark vintage of wisdomthat's been aging in your chestsince the day beforethere was light. ~frEd Lamotte
