Title: When Silence has spoken: In Six Chapters
By ZQ
Chapter One:
I was walking alone
In the rain
Having my smoke,
Dodging small puddles and wet ferns
When
I noticed a worm extended and wiggling
In a shallow pond;
That the rain and
This path of frequent passage
Had made.
Chapter Two
Upon my return
I noticed the worm had almost
Made it
Out of this small pond
To freedom.
Extended and wiggling
At a rhythmic pace
But going nowhere.
With a nearby twig
I hunched over
Squatting with reverence
Dug a small trench
On the boundary
In the wet soil
Scooped up the worm
Twirling around and ‘round
On the tip of my twig,
I, loud and clear
Released it;
Into the small trench
I had made.
I gently covered it
Blessed it
And said “good-bye”.
Chapter Three.
Advancing,
On my return,
A bird swiftly flew by me
Perched itself on a branch
Screeching as if to scold me
For taking away its meal.
It had been perched
Somewhere near by
Since the rain came.
Knowing its meal would arrive.
But,
Then,
I came along,
To become a heretic
On my return
On this path.
(Having blessed its breakfast
To freedom
And hearing
The screecher s’
Hungry lament).
I had just been spoken to.
Very boldly.
Without linguistics.
Chapter Four
All in one moment
The consequences of my action,
Blessed and Scolded,
Filled me with anxiety, exhilaration
And guilt.
I walked to and fro
Kicking my heels
But they only dragged
Causing a mis-step.
I tried to clear my mind.
My pace and my vision
Went from pride
To “What the heck,
I don’t know”.
No place to hide
No place to go.
Chapter Five
The rain stopped
The sun emerged
Between the branches and the leaves
Making bright channels of sparks
Igniting the heavy mist
To rise as fog along my feet.
Whisking translucent
And gradually thickening
Then unpredictably
Started taking the shape
Of two persons
Maybe not
Just two beings
Drifting
In front of me.
I tried to clear my mind.
Seeing them
Seeing This
Seeing that
Then as the fog
Took solid
Beyond recognition
I saw the Holy Rumi
And his Dervish companion.
The Holy one spoke
As sending thoughts.
Each word,
Carried,
Diminished the elusion
The fog created.
“Observe the wonders as they occur around you.
Do not claim them.
Feel the artistry moving through
And be silent.”
I kept trying to clear my mind;
To understand
Yet unable to think
As the mist and fog
Waffled and wafered
Towards and into
The channels of light
As sparklers, celebrating the transition
Sunshine
Through the last rain drop
Its moment of prism.
Then,
Then the day
Had subtlety changed
Along my path.
Chapter Six
Nothing.
Nothing that I could conjure up.
So,
Nothing but silence
Returned.
