call it Tao?

[Guest guest]

No words in this Silence

or if there are, then as

birds flying overhead

and then gone

 

Any rhythm, any pattern in this?

 

There is no " looking at it " .

 

It simply is.

 

Perhaps like looking at a still pond

on which breezes create subtle ripples.

Not still like a sheet of glass.

But still, like the sound of a cicada.

A stillness vibrant, alive.

 

What is alive in it is moving

without any axis

like ants crawling over a spill of honey

movement everywhere

but no pattern to hold it.

 

The only pattern is the openness of

no-pattern.

 

Should we call it Tao?

naw...