No Clinging, No Disturbances

Pointing out, a million coloured appearances,
Turning ’round the arrow of attention,
Pointing at the Space we are seeing from,
Colours collapse into emptiness,
Form collapses into formlessness,
Time collapses into timelessness,
And absence and presence are one.

A great sky contains all of the clouds of the universe,
Each arising out of it,
Persisting for a time,
And subsiding without a trace.
Without clinging to appearances,
Without holding on to emptiness,
Where can disturbance take root?

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