Daylight, hushed as deep as night, It is you who lead me through the walls of time, Back to the winding stone steps in the mountains.
In the wind, birds play, bearing petals & scent, Cicadas trill through the trees like sacred chants. Morning bells echo across the hills, flowing wide and steady with the stream, towards the bright, restless world of name & gain. The evening drum, however, chooses solitude, accompanied only by my measured steps, as I walk into the thin, dimly lit mist.
Slowly I sit, as though for a thousand years, and once again, eyes open, unreadable and silent.