Sacred and Secret
Sacred and Secret
In her depths
The pond is silent,
Not the silence
of simple quietude
or of nothingness,
But of the living Power
That from a secret place
Spins out sounds,
Form, movement, worlds and breath.
Like the pond
The Saturday visitors
have their secret silences
undiscovered
beneath complexity and clamor
unheard
under their engines’ growling fire.
Yet she pulls them, compels them
To come down to her:
silence seeking silence
secrets seeking secrets.
Some call her calling their need
to get out of the house for a while
to have a little freedom outdoors
to get away from it all
to have some fun, unwind, relax.
Unconscious but obedient they come
Lonely, dragging their discontent,
Scattering in a circle
About her banks.
One in a thousand
in an unencumbered moment
Dives deep enough to touch the silence.
For an instant
the sartori
radiant
spreads thrill to every cell
from the infinite within
to the infinite beyond
revealing
whence he came
why he’s here
to what he will return
before he must catch the ball
or grasp the drink that’s passed
Lurching back from wonder
into battering reality.
And of the thousand
who touch and thrill
One will vanish
From all the sundered worlds
Reaching forth creator’s hands
To paint both ponds and men
from the glory
of the silence.
– Durjaya Pliske.
——-
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