Gassho (a tribute to Rilke and Dogen)
Meaning and matter are not to be found in a net cast from mind to Future moment
The blossom of all possibilities rests in your hands; why adorn a distant grave?
The now is not your procession. No matter how the foot falls, an action Now betrays tomorrow’s mirage
Petals falling under anxious winds, every spiral uncertain
spinning clefts of wasted time evade the calculating eye
yet we conceive the palaces of our end, foundations of fear, columns of doubt
and charm a reaper’s groom
or court a bride of hope alabaster
the Present lifts the veil, a white skull crumbles and shatters
and so with any structure crafted on an absence
will fall as flowers fell
so bring your starving heart, drop the parched bouquet
upon the garden of today
where the naive light of morning ripens into wizened dusk
and the sweet soils swell with acceptance
for your beating, aching shape
the quenching waters of desire
will ease the throb to steady pulse
and I will be your gardener