Sunday, May 22, 2005

Notes on Emptiness #4

obscure birdcalls from the big pine next door
disappear when you search for them
like trying to thread the needle of emptiness

1 comment:

DoveTaler said...

How Sufi...
"A man crouching on the ground, his head thrown back, his eyes shut as if he were in a dream, sang an ancient song in which the word for love alternated with the word for death. Then everything grew still, and became a part of the immense silence roundabout."
- Isabelle Eberhardt

How Buddhist...
"Relaxed, resting his head on his arm, he abandoned himself to the infinite sweetness of falling asleep alone on the ground, a stranger among simple rough men, in a nameless desert spot to which he would never return."
- Isabelle Eberhardt

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