Song of The Riverside Oracle
A Chinese Sonnet
The fog glides softly over the river' sigh.
A fisher heals his net of dreaming;
He knows the star is not for catching.
A heron curtsies where the water bends.
Its wings remember the spirits of ancestors.
Each ripple replies softly-''All ends,And yet
nothing truly ends''
The oracle rests alongside the current,
Perusing stillness,not words in the flow.
'' Truly'',she says ''is what the heart concedes,
not what the tongue commands?''
Dusk moves down,beacons shiver on the river.
The river keeps the mysteries of those who listen.
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