Of the Moment, For the Moment, Calm

The fog on the fields in the valley
Has floated me off of the plains.
I'm in China now, a monk on a
Mountain that's made of ink.
Taoist sage, in a manner of speaking,
I'm giving up futures, also pasts,
To let the present be what it is:
The whole of existence. So lovely,
I think, so long as the valley is
Fogged.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 54 times
Written on 2010-08-05 at 13:54

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