Pollen-filled winds
whistle
in the spring garden.
The hummingbird
hovered over the snail
and whispered:
How I envy your Zen and calm.
The snail smiled
and replied:
On a dewy sunlit morning,
I crawled to the summit
of a mossy boulder
and whispered to the piece of rock
between exasperated breaths:
How I envy your Zen and calm.
The boulder, for millennia
weighed down
the tension and secrets
of the rumbling grounds underneath.
By force of habit, it constantly stared
at the shadows of mortals,
hazy outlines beyond the veils and
curtains.
It muttered to the world beyond:
How I envy your Zen and calm.
The vulgarity
of the world beyond
holds a mirror to itself
and blushes.
No comments:
Post a Comment