Puny human intellects, playing their infantile games of conceptual thought, argue and pontificate , create histories, dogmas, philosophies, sciences : all dust on the wind, foam on the waves.
Who will name the nameless, shape the formless, pin down the timeless?
As well try to devour the sun or swallow the oceans!
Can words describe that which is beyond all description?
Can intellect measure the infinite nothingness of no-mind?
A vagabond in ragged clothes laughs in the face of the storm.
He has nothing, does nothing, says nothing - but he is everything.
He dwells in silence...and the razor-edged sword of his poise cuts through 200,000 years of human knowledge like a knife through butter!
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