Before words
the silence,
before movement
the still point
without thought
or desire;
with the single eye
of eagle hunting,
the patience
of stones stepped
in the sea,
empty,
then empty again.
By the hollow
the boat is lifted,
to the open hand
the world restores.
Don
You always seem to be able to state so well the art of living. Life can be hard,and we need to be steeled, yet you present it so softly. Receive the open hand.
…….silently opening, and reopening my hands, to give to another, to receive from another…….thank you, Don.
Why is the word “hollow” so evocative? It is both an empty space and a secretive place to live, like a hobbit. Your poem works both sides of a whole series of paired opposites, not something I remember seeing you do before, but the resulting tension spins and pulls the reader through to the other side of the poem. Don’t try this at home, kids!
Absolutely stunning…of course, the surface mind does not know this ….but the I AM certainly does!
Welcome Hollow Bone..
As always, Don,
I am touched in that special hollow place, that I can access at will.
Your work is so beautiful
Bev