Notes on Traveling with Flowers
A perfect geometry exists and it is at war with apparent chaos in the world of Matter, Energy, Space and Time. This world.
Chaos and Geometry warring. The devotees of the taunting illusion that knowledge can be had are mocked from the torn edges of chaos in the shadows of the moon.
Though it exists, it’s not here for the mind to grasp and make its own. Equilibrium cannot be attained here, because Geometry and Chaos are actively at war.
An orphaned shade of fog
ensnared upon the spindle
of a pine
is entwined.
Smiling rays of sun
spill over forested hills,
into the cool chalice
of the canyon.
Unseen hands weave cords of silver
amongst
the golden sunshine strands.
The Tao Breathes both
in-breath and out-breath at once –
The circle is full: all are welcome.
Cloud, Pine, and river valley,
Ghostly strands of fog weaving through
the warp of tree and rock.
The scent of earth in rain,
Fragrance of rain on rain,
Sibilance cascading, roof, bough, and leaf.
Frogs leaping across the rain-black road,
Sweet and precious beyond reckoning–
How many have I squashed
Driving this massive contraption
Engaged in my all-important errands?
The author, tired of untangling strands of light, looks for the Gifts within. Yeshi joins in his own lovely way.
Last Winter an intrepid mouse who got into a storage room amassed scavenged portions of food into several little caches around the place, some downstairs, some upstairs in another storage room. It delighted my wife so much that she snapped a photo of one of the caches containing beans, oatmeal and pasta. She marveled repeatedly over the amount of effort that would have been required to move these bits of food in such small increments, the number of trips, the determination… she was quite charmed. Our animal brothers and sisters, when we become aware of the little details of their lives, suddenly become so human and interesting.
Mouse Cache
The moon descends,
wearing it’s horned mask,
or it’s Cheshire-like grin,
or maybe an orange embrace
aimed at it’s dancing partner,
bright Venus.
A dear friend begins a long journey,
the longest journey,
that is also the shortest.
Worlds turn, sand sifting–
“Fall through my fingers
all that passes, down
to the black sea bottom.”
The Great Lion roars and
iron bars tremble, knowing
their time is soon to come.
Sun in the leaves, still.
A stick snaps somewhere in the woods,
Or the bole of a tree pops.
My mind’s like a cell.
My soul flies elsewhere.
I am pulled beyond these walls.
