Photo: ‘Dewdrop Diamonds’ by jplenio – Pixabay

Wanted to share a poem by TSK instructor and poet, Ken McKeon… you might say, HE is sharing a ‘Humble Moment’… one of those essential fundamental experiences when Great Time, Space, and Knowledge all converge as their deepest expressions…

By Ken McKeon

Real is rare,
Off that,
That’s a flat out shame,
A floating gimmick of a phrase,
Before there was life there were diamonds,
That too,
But try it on for size anyway,
I am as particular as a shining ring of Saturn,
As the dust left behind
By the hum winged silences
Of mantric starry shoots of nowhere being,


I am a flute playing fool,
I have stepped off the cliff of time,
Lucency, rare light, rainbows,
These are all signs
Of the departing streams of gods,

That too,

Wherever did they stand in all this emptiness?
Where did their toes tap?
Where did their hats hang?
I keep looking for signs of activity,
I am married to motion,
I am the arising, the fading,

The dew drop living chamber glistening
Like a hymn upon a blade of grass,
Vapor bound up steaming sunlight,
Melting frost light,
The rolling hillsides,
I am the trampled path seen through,
Here was where I am today just now,
And momentarily so,
Eternally refining,
Like a diamond in the sky.

About David Filippone

I have been a student of Tarthang Tulku’s Time, Space, Knowledge (TSK) vision for over twenty-five years. For the past twelve years, I’ve studied TSK and Full Presence Mindfulness with Jack Petranker, director of the Center for Creative Inquiry (CCI). I have also participated in programs offered by Carolyn Pasternak of the Odiyan Center. For the past several years, I have curated the CCI Facebook page, which is often TSK-focused, and I serve on the CCI Board of Directors. The CCI Facebook page can be found at the following link...
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1 Response to HUMBLE MOMENT….

  1. Michael Gray says:

    Wherever did they stand in all this emptiness?
    Where did their toes tap?

    Good questions. Those gods must just have spun in a swirling dervish dance. No one watching, no one to bump against, just a celebration by a living vortex of the freedom to be.

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