A thread.
Moving things move.
The thread does not.
Time opens.
Closes.
Opens.
The thread remains.
Held
without effort.
Without choice.
While held
there is no losing.
Speech breaks
near it.
Not sought.
Not believed.
Pain happens.
Bodies pass.
Time continues.
Nothing is stopped.
The thread
is not touched.
Held
until holding ends.
Not released.
So it is.
सूत्रम्।
चलन्ति भावाः।
न चलति तत्।
कालः प्रसार्यते।
निवर्तते।
प्रसार्यते।
सूत्रं तिष्ठति।
गृहीतम्
अनायासेन।
अनिच्छया।
गृहीते
नास्ति भ्रान्तिः।
वाणी
अत्र भिद्यते।
न अन्वेषणम्।
न श्रद्धा।
दुःखं भवति।
देहाः क्षीयन्ते।
कालः वहति।
न किञ्चित् निवार्यते।
सूत्रं
न स्पृश्यते।
गृहीतम्
यावत् गृहीतिः अस्ति।
न मोच्यते।
एवम् एव।
This work continues through those who choose to remain with it, not to receive more, but to stay present with what is already unfolding.
Beautiful!
Aham, this feels very still… almost like standing beside a quiet river and noticing something beneath the surface that doesn’t move with the current.
That image of the thread remaining while everything else opens, closes, passes; it carries a kind of calm gravity. Time, bodies, pain… all moving through their cycles, while something subtle and steady simply is. I especially loved the line “Speech breaks near it.” Some things really do sit beyond explanation; the closer language gets, the more it falters.
Reading it, I couldn’t help feeling that the thread is pointing to that quiet continuity running through life. The subtle connection we’re always held by, even when everything else seems to shift or disappear. Not something to grasp, exactly… more something we slowly realise we were never outside of.
It’s a very spare poem, but it leaves a long echo. One of those pieces that keeps unfolding a little after you’ve finished reading it. Thank you for sharing 🙏🏽