Fullness in Emptiness
The wind displace those strands of braid unbound,
And bid a note of thanks for silent mind.
A chirp of birds from up the new spring ground,
Depicts beneath; a cozy worm, joy-blind.
I pray be free of hunting bird’s cold beak,
For I, as I do know am of that deep,
Dark world I did believe so dull and bleak.
Beg break the curse of all their cursing sleep.
Yet raised by loving wing-ed mum of air,
To rise with dawn and steal the breath of day,
I cannot stop from cursing at my hair,
And tell it ‘you are getting in my way’.
Yet I must stop the curse, for it is clear,
It is the silent earth that I hold dear.
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