1
Far be it for me
to know for sure
what’s really there
across Duality’s wall.
In this tennis
game of living,
there’s an us
and them.
They lob the ball
of thought to me.
I try to slam
it back.
Where they
see black,
my eye finds white.
Their eye sees evil,
mine sees good.
They seem to me to lie
or be mistaken.
From what they say, at least,
I seem those ways to them.
2
I say a prayer
quite frequently
reminding me
the life I know
is nothing but a dream:
the hills and trees,
the cars and buildings,
my own body, even,
don’t exist.
And I, the “hero”
of my drama
never really was,
though something, someone
seems convincingly to be me.
3
A Sage
once told a tale
about another kind of Wall
appearing far across a field,
that several men were running toward.
The first to get there
climbs the wall,
looks over,
bursts out laughing
and dives over to the other side,
never to be seen again.
4
I’m seeking to dismantle—
or so I tell myself—
the wall of Us and Them,
of I and It.
And yet so far, I can’t.
A certain form of honesty
seems to demand I act
on what I see as true.
This relative integrity,
this stance, “I’m right!”
(which always has an opposite)
I find unsatisfactory.
Yet what else can I do?
Keep digging
in myself
to find the buried Bridge
from I to Thou,
the Key uniting
self with All.
So far, though,
only Earth
unearthed.
5
Someday my effort
will pay off.
It isn’t being right I want;
it’s being One with Everyone!
Someday, with Help—
the Help that is
our only help—
that other Wall
will come in view;
and race, and climb,
and dive I shall!
And then I’ll find
myself in you,
and with Duality
be through.
