Thursday, 1 August 2013

Sound Of The Bell

Below ancient trees
verdant mosses flicker
a dance between light and earth.
Silent immobile to the eye
soft flowing songs for the heart.

A moment of such simple Beauty
when the bell was struck
so releasing the sound within.
I, the bell; you, the bell,
the bell neither you nor I.
Still the sound resonates unbroken
penetrating the heart
stripping away layer by layer,
emptying the vessel of itself.

Treading a pilgrims' path

remaining empty,

thus with the mind
of one who only walks.

A sparrow
beak full of moss –
treasuring aloneness
in the everyday world.

The retreating cloak of night
leaves behind
an ocean of dewdrops,
each one a new world.

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