even through the eyes,
the medium of an evenow
master, in awe of which
I am humbled, a ray of light that shines
in the denseness of it all, after thought occurred.
having glimpsed at how the old master
gave words to the way it is,
the Tao of it, or should be,
all I have come to understand is
but an echo of all there ever was to be said.
I only have the words
to repeat what the universe
has whispered in my ear
spoken with a virtuous breath not my own,
for I borrow all that I am
from all that has been and is.
from the unseeded, the silent delivery of a word
comes forth out of nowhere, to say nothing
that hasn’t already been said
excuse me for repeating myself
each of us is given a voice to turn a particular phrase
over and over again
to say what has to be said
until someone hears the truth of it