Perhaps sometimes I understand
what is what they call meditation. An endless
and beginningless journey upwards
in silence and void. A journey upwards
to the unproblematic light. Although
in this void there is no direction or distinction
between opposites. This void
is less than darkness and more than light. In this light
there is no light and no darkness. No less
and no more. No something. No nothing.
Only an endless and beginningless journey
in the shining, windless... until suddenly
I stumble on something I have known before:
the disfigured body of a young recruit from Tartu
beaten to death by his fellow soldiers.
Or the black cat nailed to a tree by some kids.
No more. No less. Endless. Beginningless. Journey.
Jaan Kaplinski, in Kirjutatud - Valitud luuletused
