From nothingness to nothingness
the waves the waves
the simple weathered things I love
imperfect
impermanent
incomplete
that which comes and goes I cherish
discernible only to a cultivated eye
a quiet mind
What makes these tears start
out of nowhere?
Year after year
the karateka practises the kata
until suddenly one day
the unnatural becomes natural
the rehearsed becomes spontaneous
The ikebana artist
cuts a flower
precisely in order to make it live
to return it to itself
The Nō actor
slides his raised-toe foot along the stage
then abruptly cuts off the movement
lowering his toes to the floor-
a pause between inhalation and exhalation-
and at the exact same instant
his other foot slides forward
The poet’s brush
strikes a cut
between two images
in a haiku
walling in a rock garden
of white gravel and black stones
where the only motion
is shadows cast by sun and moon
No comments:
Post a Comment