According to Osho, poetry contains only a passing glimpse—a reflected moon in water—whereas the enlightened one's utterance is the moon itself: direct, lived truth. The poet lacks realization and mastery; inspiration comes unconsciously and sporadically. The seer, purified by meditation, abides in silence and knows; his words carry self-evident authenticity because existence speaks through him. Therefore poetic beauty is reflection, enlightenment speech is experience.
Poems are pretty reflections, but an enlightened person speaks from actually seeing the truth.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Osho, is being attracted to Krishna not the same as being free of life’s other attractions?
One has to think a little. Here lies Krishna’s distinction. If you are attracted to Mahavira, you will have to be free of all the world’s attractions. If you go toward Mahavira, you will have to go against the world. That is Mahavira’s path. But with Krishna the matter is a little delicate and deep. Krishna says, if you want to come to me, you must seek me right within the attractions of the world; for I am present there too. There is no need to run away from there. Understand it like this. You relish food. If you listen to Mahavira, there will be a vow of non-taste (aswad-vrat). Then you must drop taste. Eat as a function, a necessity; do not savor. Put food into the body so that the body’s work may continue, but take no relish in it. Drop taste, continue eating. Let food become tasteless,…
Osho, yesterday you said that when anger is watched consciously, it dissolves. But why is it that when sexual desire arises, even in awareness its intensity persists? Why is it so?
There is no entanglement in the breath. If you try to practice on anger… Anger is not happening every moment; it happens sometimes. And when it happens, it happens with such intensity that you are already going deep into it; so much is at stake in those moments that you may think, “We will look into awareness later; first let’s settle this now.” Lust is very deep, because existence has made it so deep; life depends on it. If lust were so easy that you decided and were freed, perhaps you would not even have been born—because many before you would have become free, and the possibility of your being would have been almost nil. But your parents, and their parents, did not become free; therefore you are. You too will not get free so easily, because your children are also to be—they are waiting: “Do not run away midway.”…
Is poetry the voice of wonder, or an avoidance of moving closer to the source, a sensuous lingering?
The other kind of poetry may be an avoidance of the real kind. It may be an escape. Samarpan, you ask, "Is poetry the voice of wonder, or an avoidance of moving closer to the source, a sensuous lingering?" The other kind of poetry can be an avoidance. You may be afraid to take the jump, you may be afraid to lose yourself totally, so you allow only a few glimpses here and there, and then you "drown" yourself -- what you call creativity. You paint, you make poetry, you create music -- and you get lost in "doings". That may be an avoidance. Maybe you are afraid: that lightning was too much. You are afraid that if you don't get drowned in your so-called creativity, the window may open again. And who knows? You may not be capable of resisting the temptation of jumping out of it. It is…
Question: Third question: Osho, I am a poet; isn’t that enough to attain truth? Dinesh! Being a poet is beautiful, even necessary—but not sufficient. One must also be a rishi, a seer. Above the poet is the seer. In language the two words may seem to overlap, but existentially there is a great difference. The poet sees as if in a dream; the seer sees with eyes open, awake. The seer is a witness; the poet is imaginative. In the poet’s imagination, sometimes reflections of truth appear, as when the full moon is in the sky and its reflection forms in the lake. The poet is like the moon’s reflection in the lake, while the seer has lifted his eyes and seen the moon in the sky. The poet keeps singing of the reflection and gets entangled in it.
Osho, what is the definition of God?
Words are very small. If you say God is light, then what of darkness? The scriptures have said that God is light. Suppose we accept this as a definition—then what about darkness? Where will darkness go? Darkness is too; in fact it is far more than light. Light sometimes is and sometimes is not; darkness is always, eternal. Where will you place darkness? If you say God is light, darkness is left out. If you say God is darkness, then light is left out. If you say God is both darkness and light, a contradiction arises: they cannot be together. Try to have both darkness and light in the same room. If you bring in light, darkness disappears; if you preserve darkness, you cannot have light. Then how can both be together? That becomes an impossibility. So you cannot say “both” either. Then the fourth device is to say: it…