Big waves looking down upon
small waves.
Small waves feel small
big waves, tall.
With their forms, they have
names, their identities.
Giganwaves, the Gs don't talk to
Dwarvwaves, the Ds;
One day the ocean said
two things to
the Gs and the Ds,
they're not the same,
and they're going to die
whatever their stature be.
Not the same, we know!
But die? Oh!
The waves, big and small,
were sad, they wept real hard,
they roared real bad
the ocean, they thought could lie!
At last, they went to Asilomar,
a Saintwave, the real star.
Asilomar said
they're much the same,
they're never going to die,
repeated there's no difference
between them.
No difference! Weird!
But never to die? It must be fun,
but how, they asked.
The Gs and the Ds were told,
regardless of their names,
forms, roles, faults and strengths,
they're all water, all one.
All one? How weird, said the
untouchable Ds, stunned!
Ridiculous, snapped the
standoffish Gs!
The Saintwave went on…
You, the Gs, the Ds, are one,
much as those froths, the foams
that land on the shores.
From the ocean they
might one day
be a cloud in the sky,
fall as raindrops
on the lands, rivers, or ponds
to let flowers bloom, fruits, crops
grow, the earth glow;
each of them is life,
the Gs, the Ds alike;
they will continue to flow
roll or fly
but they'll never ever die.
Influenced by the Adwaita Vedanta
