Finding a Non Place

Pierre Feuga, eminent yoga and Tantra, was “glib pen”! I’ll let you discover (or rediscover) the “non-place”, text funny and wise at once …

When I arrived in Hell
the door was marked SOLD.
“We admit that more severe cases,
said a demon tired.
You humans have trivialized evil. Too much work for us!
Just so we can still ensure insecurity
with the addition of the damned.
Some colleagues would be well on strike
they feared losing their jobs. ”
Me: “Where to go? I am not worthy of Heaven. ”
Lui : « Bah… Essayez le SRIK.» Him: “Well … Try Srik.”
Moi : «Plaît-il ?» Me: “Pardon?”
Him: “You call it Purgatory in the good old days. Today, as long as the money comes, they accept anyone.”
So I tried this posthumous Bercy.
But it looked so much like Earth.
He was fussy, gray, winded.
Accountable to no end, a true fiscal control
with reminders of unpaid surcharges for late questionable
but better not to discuss.
But one day I was told: “All right, you’re white.
There is a charter for the Sky
for Heaven
because there are many, you know,
a steward told me a little pedantic, old CNRS.
It depends on the conceptual level that you achieved on Earth. ”
Well my level should not be very high.
Nothing new if not greater, more sustainable.
Boredom wonderful deserved holiday, as
those endless Sundays when children are not allowed to get dirty.
One day, however
(if one can speak of days where there is never a night)
tired of yogis cross impeccable
gods bloom, goddesses who flawless charm
tigers playing with cows
One day, I aspired to Empty.
I postulate.
There was little demand
and mine was satisfied
(they were not unhappy to get rid of an immigrant).
A saint disapproving dabbed my card causal
Pass the Void and good wind!
That’s where I write,
This Empty elsewhere without wind.
And I really do not regret my choice.
Nothing to tell, of course,
it is neither large nor small
neither clear nor dark
is empty
limitless, formless, without borders
person above or below
no problem Neighborhood hierarchy.
Those who remain here are delicious
we never see them, they have no name, no longer even know God’s.
They are not dissatisfied as those of the Earth
nor self-satisfied as those of heaven.
Their silence sings louder than your words
Their indifference is hotter than your love.

-Pierre Feuga