It Is As It Should Be
This morning unnoticed pages from a book litter the field out back--
rectangular paper easily mistaken as brown paper napkins or crinkled leaves.
My consciousness calls me, she speaks to me like
an indelible whispering river above,
moving with inspiration and other world words.
Each page waits for me to discern, each page a gift left behind.
I notice the energyless energy-filled center.
I walk. I breathe deep. I see the effervescent oxygen from tree.
I am drawn down, there at my feet a page from a book,
half on curb and half on street, I read #76- The Stone Mind.
Tenderly, my hands lift up my past written on
this present piece of paper, a humbled child’s need,
memories laced with relief. There is great meaning
in a moment unexpected. Black inked words form wisdom,
sneaker prints left on pulp paper, it feels disregarded and yet cherished. I crave
the dirty paper which was left behind to be found with meaning for my eyes.
Wind lifts and leaves a tussled poverty, carelessly forgotten,
pages easily ripped by hand from a
bound book titled Zen Flesh and Zen Bones.
I look around to see if anyone owns these abandoned words,
or the spaces in between.
There is no one to hold the haphazard journey of this prose.
There is more, I scan the green for more messages from long ago,
a boundless moment of irrational page numbers from 55 to 209.
They are wrinkled and scattered as paper flags across wet summer grass,
prayer flags draping the temple gold, green and black,
past rain saturates parchment, I halt a decomposing state as
I stack the thick wet paper upon my palm to dehydrate.
I read the simple stories and release the stone stuck
in my brain. I read the stories and find I can’t hide behind false hope.
I read the stories and my virtue is my rebirth;
I read the stories and find my wheels meaning has ancient worth.
Tenderly, I learn there are messages in something that went wrong;
I read in a heightened state from an oracle placed upon the ground.TJK