Someone
who does not know
the Tigris River exists brings
the caliph who lives near the river a jar
of fresh water. The caliph accepts,
thanks him, and gives in return
a jar filled with gold
coins.
“Since this
man has come through
the desert, he should return by water.”
Taken out by another door, the man steps into
a waiting boat and sees the wide freshwater
of the Tigris. He bows his head, “What
wonderful kindness that he
took my gift.”
Every object
and being in the universe
is a jar overfilled with wisdom and
beauty, a drop of the Tigris that cannot be
contained in any skin. Every jarful spills and makes
the earth more shining, as though covered in satin.
If the man had seen even a tributary of the
great river, he would not have brought
the innocence of his
gift.
Those that
stay and live by the
Tigris grow so ecstatic that
they throw rocks at the jugs, and
the jugs become perfect. They shatter.
The pieces dance, and water…
Do you see? Neither jar nor
water nor stone,
nothing.
You knock
at the door of reality,
shake your thought-wings,
loosen your shoulders,
and open.
