Reflection Poem by Edmundo Farolan

The mind lives in a different world embodied in solitude.
Chance, pick chance.
Unwavering influence, abounding friendship, sympathy claims, understanding specks of truth.
Love? An abstraction of the mind.
I believe. I forget. I write.
Vagueness gets vaguer, redundancy more redundant,
irony more ironical.
Things are more than what they are.

Defend.
Judge.
Trying out love with the concurrence of oblivion.
Shadows abound.
Unknown forces.
Telepathic wavering.
Defending freedom with the tools of slavery.
The third eye.
The creator.
Forgotten thoughts.
Revelation that youth is futile.

Is there real truth in Zen Buddhism?
Who can justify the Church’s doctrine that there is no salvation outside of it?
What about yoga and the beads?
The releasing of the spirit,
a new breed of freedom,
spirit that denies reality.