Brian Taylor has been a Poet and Philosopher in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
Tag Archives: heart
One candle is a light unto itself.One hundred candlesilluminate a room.In a room,one candle isa light unto itself. Uposatha Day at Wat Krathum,seven old ladies and one old mantaking eight precepts for a dayto keep the fires of Hell at … Continue reading
Pain is in proportion to livingness.The more alive you are,the more it hurtsto live.This is normal. The young hurt mostbut mend quickest.New flesh healswhere old flesh withers.Young mind feelspain piercing and deep;often so deep that of itself it heals;a child … Continue reading
If the Head leads,it breeds a webin which the ego lurksto catch its prey. And the Heart pales away. If the Heart rules,the sticky webtransforms into a safety netthrough which the Egoshrivels into the Void. .
The explorer draws his mapand plunges into space.Why should he stumble onat every fresh mishapand draw back in blank surpriseas the landscape he has createdis revealed before his eyes? Having nailed his mirrorin its placefirmly to the wall,why the sudden … Continue reading
Who are the deadI have not reached(or been unable to find)who wait with such patiencein quiet corners of my mind? Seek with the mindyou get thoughts.Seek with the heartyou get understanding.Speak with thoughtsyou reach a man’s mind.Speak with understandingyou reach … Continue reading
The scent of the rosefades in the dry airand the roses themselvesshrivel and fall. The Rose Garden toosuccumbs to the developerand his high-rise flatswhich brush against the sky. Red bricks give wayto changing architectural fashionor a motorwayor a bomb. And … Continue reading
This spring-tide was not somethingto excite the sensesbut an overflowing of the heart.Pure joy.‘Love thou the rose but leave it on its stem.’ An overflowing of the heartwhich sees its images,reflected everywhere,existing nowherebut in itself. Always the sun shinesin Portsonachon,in … Continue reading
Walking Onis not just a matterof feetmeasuring out the streets of this world;or the clatterof railway tracksdwindling to a pointin the far-off, backward-looking, which has now become the past. Nor is it the Ocean Linerslipping out of port,pushing through waveswhich … Continue reading