Through dark forests he crawled
Across vast oceans
Torn and broken
He searched and searched
In mysterious valley
And the highest mountains
He peered into space
Open mouthed at the sheer majesty
Of eternity as it circled above him
Onwards he went
Searching and searching
More and more desperate

‘What are you searching for?’
Asked a farmer he met on the road.

’There is something missing,
I feel incomplete
Surely we are all looking for this completion
Isn’t this what drives us?’

‘You are misguided my friend,
This is a myth perpetuated
By the blind and foolish
By the ignorant and wayward
By those who seek power over you
And by your own arrogant mind.’

‘But without this sense of incompletion
What is the point of life
Why would we go on
What is the purpose
There must be something more?’

‘Friend, you are scratching an eternal itch
You have surrendered yourself
To the wrong master
Your own mind and its tyrannical ways
You are now enslaved
And held captive
In a myth of incompletion
Whereby you eternally search
And die unfulfilled.

Give up all this searching
And look with your inner eye
The mechanism of lack
That is at work
Just sit there and see like buddha
For one moment

In this simplicity is the truth.’

We never left the garden
And became incomplete
We went unconscious
And drunk with knowledge
And got lost in thought.