Surface

The who
And the what
That’s born
And dies —
Is the mechanism
Of distortion

Because there is
No other way
For the Undistorted
To appear to itself

Just as there is no way
For light
To appear to itself

For it to appear
There must be a surface —
A mechanism
Through which it passes
Which it illuminates —
To radiate
In colours, and shapes

The surface of the moon
Where light shines
Does not contain the light

This mechanism —
That’s born
And dies
Does not contain
The Undistorted

No mechanism —
Sage, saviour
Or enlightened one —
Perceives anything
But the distorted

All one may know
Is knowing
The distorted as
Distortion
Of the Undistorted