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And now, advice for beginning mystics.

Adam Zagajewski

Human life and objects and trees vibrate with mysterious meanings, which can be deciphered like cuneiform writing.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Anand Thakur
He replied: the ubiquity of sparrows.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Reply Sparrow Ubiquity
A brilliant poet is at work here-a poet in the rugged landscape of conflict and pain.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Brillant Conflict Landscape Pain Poet Work
Read for yourselves, read for the sake of your inspiration, for the sweet turmoil in your lovely head.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Greatness Head Inspiration Lovely Sake Sweet Turmoil Yourselves
This coming and going of the inner life – because this is what it is – is a curse and a blessing.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Anand Thakur
Once in a while it vanishes – in the sense that I become deaf to beauty for a week or two or three.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Anand Thakur
But I was only a chaotic walker, nobody could stop me; even a totalitarian state was not able to control my daydreams, my poetic fascinations, the pattern of my walking.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Anand Thakur
Time takes life away and gives us memory, gold with flame, black with embers.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Away Black Ember Flame Giving Gold Memories Memory Take
Cities at daybreak are no one’s, and have no names. And I, too, have no name, dawn, the stars growing pale, the train picking up speed.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Anand Thakur
And now, advice for beginning mystics.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Advice Attitude Beginning Mystic Spiritual Writing
There exists a meaning, hidden from day to day, but accessible in moments of greatest attentiveness, in those moments when consciousness loves the world.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Anand Thakur
I don’t need to explain why it’s a curse.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Curse Explain Need
The odds and ends of your mental surplus you carelessly throw at the world, one wants to be at a loss, in a maze; amazed, and amazingly unabashed.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Amazingly Carelessly End Loss Mental Odd Surplus Unabashed
This day’s nothingness as if from spite became a flame and scorched the lips of children and poets.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Children Day Flame Lip Nothingness Poet Scorched Spite
I drink from a small spring, / my thirst excedes the ocean.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Drink Ocean Small Spring
As if entrapped in a tropical heatwave, with dozens of whirlwinds swirling in one’s mind, one thinks of a way out, or a way in: out of the scorching bosom of a volcano, and in – into the centre of a raging hurricane.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

Boson Dozen Entrapped Heatwave Hurricane Mind Raging Scorching Swirling Tropical Volcano Whirlwind

And now, advice for beginning mystics.

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And now, advice for beginning mystics.

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Popular Authors

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