Soft breezes everywhere frostbite laps
oceans of dreams returning to slosh
silently no more than wind and waves
froth reaching jagged edged hours
washing time away
In the dark night sky
she is like thought unsurpassed
water and will
echoes and ideas
Tomorrows plains of grass
are shelves of land pushed to crenelations
-mountains arisen to heights
where cold ascends toward truth
Nothingess became a symphony
Gorecki’s sorrowful songs
when lives turn to dust
remembered by those still
living in this place
A view of the past from promontory point
starlights for someone new
looking in the distance could be
conversion to the spiritual
one might wish for.
(Why must a Zen koan become less than one hand clapping; the silence we keep runs so very deep and there are miles to go and frosty promises to keep.)
Garrison Gibson: books and blog 