Page: Profile: Poetry
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VxPoem ID: 46022
Posted: July 30th. 2015 8:26:35 PM
by Radko Vacek
Age Group: Adult
I hear the call of the wood thrush
From somewhere above, and before
I know from where it comes,
The call becomes a reflection
Of the luminous, knowing mind!
Not one of rage, not one of lust,
All those thoughts are left behind,
The clouds part for the sun,
The dirt settles to restore
The purity of the water.
The parting clouds may take all time;
The spider full of patience waits.
I cast out every filament of thread
Fit for a gown. May she be wed
In a gown of thread so fine,
With Lady Love her wedding name!
The wood thrush calls, the Lady awakens,
Beauty without clarity forsaken!
A privilege it has come to be,
To witness woodland sanctity.
Author's Notes: "When you hear a noise, between the time you hear it and the time you identify its source you can sense a state of mind devoid of thought but not asleep, I which you experience the sound as a reflection of the mind's luminosity and knowing."
the Dalai Lama, How to Be Compassionate, chapter 9
Author's Location: Toledo, Ohio
More Poems: Radko Vacek has posted 831 additional poems- View them?
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