February Mediation on Wu Xiao

 

The true sense of reclusion,

the ancient Chinese dream,

is to hear and heed a cry

of the regal Phoenix,

 

taking to the sky,

for there too

is the soul reposed

like in the mountain

 

whose speech gurgles

freely from its spring

in a ceaseless painting

that may never dry.

 

For there too

in that cadence flowing

ends of galaxies

otherwise unseen

 

weave a quiet conversation

with each and every droplet

caught in a faultless gleam

on any of the bending willows,

 

and they don’t mind you

chiming in – if you too

can keep your timing

and space and silence.