This is the sixth post in the Tagore/Kabir series.
The bridge is the swan that tickles your
fickle feather at night; it is the shadow
That falls between heaven and
The idea of earth; it is the
Bellows that swings between the
Real and what passes for the act
Of motion and its resting place; it is
The poem, but you knew that, no?
II. 59. jânh, cet acet khambh dôû Between the poles of the conscious and the unconscious, there has the mind made a swing: Thereon hang all beings and all worlds, and that swing never ceases its sway. Millions of beings are there: the sun and the moon in their courses are there: Millions of ages pass, and the swing goes on. All swing! the sky and the earth and the air and the water; and the Lord Himself taking form: And the sight of this has made Kabîr a servant.
T.S. Eliot/Lao Tsu
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow – T.S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”
The space between Heaven and Earth
Is it not like a bellows?
Empty, and yet never exhausted
It moves, and produces more. – Lao Tsu, “Tao Te Ching”