I awaken and rise to make tea.
I take my first sip and then.
Immediately afterwards that moment expands,
Stretched apart by unseen hands.
I step into the opening as I swallow the tea.
Darkness which is not darkness enfolds me.
The taste of puer pulls the earth inside.
We rest in knowledge of primordial ground.
No beginning; no end; no self; no other.
I take a second sip and smile.
I swing my mala and throw it.
It tears a hole in the fabric of this existence.
The beads disappear one by one.
I follow them,
While reflecting on impermanence.
I recite gate gate paragate
As I evanesce.
Steam rises from the tea.
Consider these things.
The cup which contains the tea
Has already been shattered.
The tea itself has been consumed.
Gate gate paragate
Parasamgate bodhi svaha.
“Gone, gone, gone beyond,
Gone altogether beyond,
Oh, what an awakening! All hail!”