The Quest.

I cannot be touched, nor tasted or smelt.
No sound is my equal, no form will be I.
Lay to rest then the seeking of objective experience
And I will be with you in the blink of an eye.
I am here, always here as the presence eternal
Forever unknown, a mystery I be
To myself, for no other exists in this presence
You, him and her are always just me.
As I seek it is I that I seek for, not knowing
That the seeking is my action manifesting as things.
Their appearance obscures what immediately remains
When searching collapses, the moment then brings
The realization that what lies behind all the movement
Is this stillness that always, already is here.
Rested unnoticed I am the bare empty canvas
On which the light-show of life does appear.
All is just this, nothing more, nothing less,
And when my attention comes finally to rest
At its source it is seen it is I that creates
All arising as my effort to fulfill my quest.