It’s becoming ever clearer
That I’m actually a mirror
And when I am introspecting
I am really just reflecting
‘Cause there’s nothing on the outside
That’s not also on the inner
‘Cause both in and out are Empty
And it’s Emptiness for dinner!
But a mirror’s just as Empty
As the Empty space it’s seeing
So it can’t be me that’s Empty
Unless Emptiness is Being
Oh it’s strange to be so empty!
What a state of disaffection!
For a mirror feels so useless
When it’s void of a reflection
It can just reflect the things that are
What else can it expect?
But soon it learns that ‘things’
Are just what human minds project
And when a human mind’s a mirror
(Like mine is, as I have said)
Naught’s projected, naught is seen
And so I might as well be dead!
But is there stuff to see in afterlife?
And is there stuff to do?
Or in afterlife, do mirrors gain projecting powers too?
Oh, I envy all you minds
Who can project a world of forms...
And see the trees and rivers
And the sun and clouds and storms
‘Cause when mind is just a mirror
With an empty out and inner
Then it can't have steak or French fries
No, it's Emptiness for dinner
No, it's Emptiness for dinner
And your steak (though it’s projected)
Is your steak, and never mine
And I cannot even see it
But my god, it smells divine.
