Infinite golden Buddhas
stretch along the path.
Each step occurs
in the presence of one
and the presence of all
and the presence of none --
simultaneously.
Infinite Golden Buddhas [Free Verse]
4
The ocean vast
closes in.
Clouds drop.
If the horizon still exists,
it's behind an approaching
wall of gray.
Whatever is closing down
the world has also
drained it of color.
The shadows are black.
The sea foam is white.
Everything else is
some dim, earthy tone.
The sea may have retained
a hint of green or blue,
but it's hard to tell --
so darkened &
gray-infused
are the waters.
I fear the world may shrink
to a dot, like an old timey TV
snapped off, a dot that's
bright white but cold.
Rangikura: Poems by Tayi TibbleA noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
Simplicity.
It flows.
It crashes.
It employs only
as much effort as
conditions dictate.
It does not rush
in a panic.
While straight,
its movements seem
whip-like.
When possible,
it moves straight,
But it rolls around or over
any obstacle.
If follows the course,
but also carves
the course.
Its movement, inexorable.