Monday, May 28, 2012

Three Sonnets

I.
The heights of Atalaya seem so far
Away from this cold room in which I sit,
Like some elusive, twinkling northern star
Beneath whose distant, silver light I’m lit.
I’m stuck within this box, four white-washed walls
Which I have found the nerve to call my home,
But the enchantment of the mountains calls
And bids me leave my room, and start to roam
Across the ponderosa dotted slopes
And over hidden outcroppings of rock,
In search of nature’s wonders. ‘Tis my hope
To leave these walls, and take off on a walk!
 But I must sit here, gloomy in my room
Just like an age-old corpse, stuck in his tomb.

II.
The stars are shining brightly overhead,
Our neighbors in the cosmos, I might add.
There are some men who feel a sense of dread
To look on them; to me it is quite mad!
The light that reaches my eye here tonight
Is millions, even billions of years old –
These unimaginable lengths could cause one fright,
The thought of drifting through the empty cold.
 Fear not, my friends! For you are like the stars,
 A single point in boundless empty space,
You are the Universe as much as Mars,
Just doing what you’re doing, with such grace!
We’re just like shooting stars that soon will fade,
But that’s the very point – don’t feel dismayed!

 III.
The tumbling of the creek is such a joy,
To sit and ponder on a mountain stroll,
My love for it will surely never cloy,
Not while it maintains such a pleasant roll
And tumble, over rocks and fallen sticks,
Progressing through this wooded canyon. I
Will sit and ask it dharma questions which
It answers more profoundly than the sly
And clever answers that I hear from men,
Who fumble with creations known as words
When trying to speak the true essence of Zen,
More eloquently spoken by the birds.
To hear the teaching of a mossy stone,
Will open up the depths of the unknown.

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