The poem
Everything except language knows the meaning of existence. Trees, planets, rivers, time know nothing else. They express it moment by moment as the universe.
Even this fool of a body lives it in part, and would have full dignity within it but for the ignorant freedom of my talking mind.
Interesting how language is the great deceiver. We claim to use language to define but actually it is used to obscure things. Our bodies half-understand. Thus through meditation – and a stilling of the monkey mind – a glimpse of the meaning of existence can be caught. A very Buddhist outlook. A poem that jolted me out of my early morning dozing when I heard it on a BBC radio programme today.