“Sanskrit bindu: ‘This word, which has many meanings, like ‘point, dot, zero, drop, germ, seed, semen.’ . . . It is the point from which inner and outer space have their origin and in which they become one again.’ The thought, poem, is a cell or seed; a germ of living thought; growing from nothing to ripeness. Instead of the dead wood of systems, the tree of life; ramifications; branched thoughts new-grown with pleasant pain.” Govinda, Foundations of Tibetan Mysticism, 116 From Norman O. Brown’s Love’s Body
See, the point displays without display and circles ’round the mother of all things, is the mother of all things, floats down to grace a forest or caress a flower or flutter into rest. And if no one sees, if no one knows, still, the point pulses and pours meaning ancient and new.
(photo by Dave Grant of New Jersey’s Ocean Institute: http://ux.brookdalecc.edu/staff/sandyhook/dgrant/)
Full, the moon spreads far her loom . . .
and shines luminescent on a world still learning the power of the tiniest point of matter and love itself.
I have yet to find a point of light or focus of love more alluring than the moon.
‘nough said. . .
Or not. Check out the poetic flow of Li Po on the following link. Especially the one titled “Three–With The Moon and His Shadow” http://www.humanistictexts.org/LiPo.htm