The argument of silence, absonant,
hammers into the pliant mind it’s hard
nails of craving.—a spirit thusly marred
will yield to any prickle, every scant
pressure to give in.—once the foreign implant
is firmly riveted, a brain so jarred
can no longer trust its levies to guard
its thoughts against the inner, speechless “can’t”.
Quietudes disturb the peace of silent
folk, pounding its forceful will upon their backs.
When, going unfulfilled, a lurching tic
tickles the unstilled ego, its violent
lashes thrash harsh whips in frequent attacks
on the tender flesh of a crooked back.
surreal
fragments
from the past
visual
encounters
with dark fantasies
plots
without dialogue
small drama
with
strangers
on the
seashore
coincidences
chimed
in passion
desire
& indulgences
in virtue&
vice
pursued
by umbrellas
&trilbies
by ladies
of the night
in mackintoshes &
braces
meditations
in
sunshine
reflections
in
mirrors
of bowlers&
beaches
melancholia
in moments
of colour
veiled
in the enigmatic
longings
for yesterday
today
in nostalgic
roads
to nowhere
of quietudes
in hidden
stylistic
wistfilled
narratives
The hillock, the bell
The swept terraces
The swept minds.
The white wood hall
The reflecting pools
The reflecting minds.
The weedless gardens
both in brain and curtilage.
The temple grounds.
The temple gives
flight.
The temple sounds
bird/wind, hush/shuffle
The temple sounds
right.
Some say all (I say many)
paths
lead to these courtyards.
Follow flower flows.
Wending ways, find one's way.
The middle path, the Wu Wei Way...
Many, many ways to find One Way;
to find one's way, to finally find,
to unwend one's way to home mind, to
No Mind.
Silences...
Echoing off Oms.
Poverties...
Bowls cradling alms.
Quietudes in multitudes,
of balding bones.
The chatterless babble of an unseen brook.
Torii, lotus, gravemarking gorinto, stupa, murti;
each here, each
forsook.
Cherry, Plum, and Chrysanthemum;
each a Zafu seed, each a mustard seed.
Verdant lives, wants fallen
as Autumn leaves. Needs.
And for the nun? And for the monk?
Each path of pilgrim's footfall
an invitation, a lure for the mind
at least, if not the heart,
to
depart.
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