If I try to say anything about this,
consider that it is everything
The divine language of compassion
is our heart’s connection to Tao, to Source,
yet who among us can be still enough
to listen and hear just one true word?
Earth speaks in new grass,
shifting sand, wind in tall pines,
snowy paths to nowhere.
Fire speaks in crackling flame,
night ablaze, comforting warmth,
Water speaks in leaf drip,
ocean wave, melting snow,
the quenching of thirst.
Sky speaks in lightning flash,
hazy moon, white billowing
clouds on a canvas of blue.
All speak to me
as if it were my own speech,
while I remain the silent witness.
I listen, I hear, I laugh in my sleep,
though once in a while I just weep,
Yes — at the suchness of all,
I just weep.