A Thing to Speak Of
A fine Chinese porcelain pot for instance,
with all of its art and nature painted upon it;
herons in flight,
storks stalking,
ibis reciting the ‘I Ching’ to other ibis,
dancing dragons,
lotus, golden carp
and chrysanthemums
floating through silky, everlasting clouds –
a thing that can be
spoken of,
read by scholars,
translated
into a hundred languages,
a fine oriental testament to
imagery
and pictographic symbolism,
yet
if all you have is an opaque
hollowed out wooden bowl
fit only to be filled
and fed to the plain-spoken,
even so
it just might be enough -
when
one perfect morning
you place such a roughhewn vessel
by a window
in a circle of translucent sunlight
allowing a newborn sun
to play over
that ordinary utensil
then
it may fill up to the very brim
with a living luminescence,
a see-through language
of its own
that will spill over
with sudden translatable
intimations
of
herons in flight or fishing
into their own deep
stillness.
Storks stalking and hovering,
ibis teaching the ‘I Ching’ to other ibis,
Mandrakes in a line following.
Dragons snaking and dancing,
through the swirl of unknowable heavens.
Lotus meditating - opening,
golden carp and chrysanthemums
afloat or swimming
through the silky blush
of everlasting clouds.
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