I Resonate...
Visions and perspectives- fierce collision,
and I tumble and hit the ground. Words echo, unreal sounds,
I know it's empty and I have reached the farthest end
.
You have overtaken me by leaps and bounds.
I have been left behind, still groping and believing
that I was chosen for the path.
No; I am not!
I was a voice heard in passing,
a wisp of feather that crossed your path,
at first in a gentle curiosity.
I had never seen a feather catch fire,
and when I did
there was no vision that held a touch more flagrant than the one of a feather burning when nothing else burnt.
I have heard the silence of the breathtaking heights of the steep hillsides,
the silence in the wave as the tide recedes.
the silence that comes in the wake of a storm;
and I heard myself saying every time it happened,
"It's just the effort of climbing that put you out of breath, or
it's just the spent-up rush of the wave that has taken your speech away; or it's just a little rain that has drenched all;
don't call it a storm--it's just a little rain!
The silence came in many forms, until i stopped looking for it. Sometimes it came with precursors and signs, and sometimes it swayed in, unannounced.
But silence was never alone when it came; he and the silence came hand in hand.
His words echoed:
Once I said, 'That is the farthest end. We reach there
where the search is over and thus is nihilism born."
He said without bending his tone,
"Or perhaps we meet God!"
There is silence in the heart of peace,
like the monastic silence in the heart of caves carved in the ribs of hills.
Or I may not be there; neither you nor me;
a new life may await us there
either full of infinite possibilities
whose meaning may lie beyond this region where we are
striving to end all absurdities, striving to transcend all dualities.
Visions and perspectives- fierce collision,
and I tumble and hit the ground. Words echo, unreal sounds,
I know it's empty and I have reached the farthest end
.
You have overtaken me by leaps and bounds.
I have been left behind, still groping and believing
that I was chosen for the path.
No; I am not!
I was a voice heard in passing,
a wisp of feather that crossed your path,
at first in a gentle curiosity.
I had never seen a feather catch fire,
and when I did
there was no vision that held a touch more flagrant than the one of a feather burning when nothing else burnt.
I have heard the silence of the breathtaking heights of the steep hillsides,
the silence in the wave as the tide recedes.
the silence that comes in the wake of a storm;
and I heard myself saying every time it happened,
"It's just the effort of climbing that put you out of breath, or
it's just the spent-up rush of the wave that has taken your speech away; or it's just a little rain that has drenched all;
don't call it a storm--it's just a little rain!
The silence came in many forms, until i stopped looking for it. Sometimes it came with precursors and signs, and sometimes it swayed in, unannounced.
But silence was never alone when it came; he and the silence came hand in hand.
His words echoed:
Once I said, 'That is the farthest end. We reach there
where the search is over and thus is nihilism born."
He said without bending his tone,
"Or perhaps we meet God!"
There is silence in the heart of peace,
like the monastic silence in the heart of caves carved in the ribs of hills.
Or I may not be there; neither you nor me;
a new life may await us there
either full of infinite possibilities
whose meaning may lie beyond this region where we are
striving to end all absurdities, striving to transcend all dualities.
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