newsletter logo: Sangha Reflections


by Sankar

Even the waters are silent
On this winter day.
The trees without a leaf to stir
Watch the wavelets
In lonely desolation.

The air almost solid.
The swamps frozen around the feet of the trees.
There is nothing to distract,
Nothing to focus on.
The mind is quiet as the air.

The birds
Are nowhere to be seen.
The planes out of Dulles
in the near distance
merely underline the stillness.

As I walk on the towpath
My feet grind on the gravel.
I slow down
to quiet the footsteps,
and enjoy your presence.

You live in the motionless trees
And the dark expanse of empty space.
You envelop everything,
becoming invisible
save for such glimpses.

The body gets old.
Even desire dies.
But another winter day
I will be here to meet you.
You are eternal.


Where Is The Truth

Where is the truth?
Or does it slip and slide about?
Depending on how you look at it?
From the top as correct.
From the bottom, oppressive.
From the right, the way it has been.
From the left, open to freedom.
But there is a certain truth I know,
When I am breathing in,
I know I am breathing in an in-breath.
When I am breathing out,
I know I am breathing out an out-breath.

~ Bill Menza,
January 23, 2007
Sarasota, Fla.




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