Posted 10/19/07

"The secret waits for eyes unclouded by longing."
by Paul Black

In a hidden Colorado west slope canyon
I quote Korzybski--
"What I say a thing is, it isn’t,"
and study the lichen patterns on the rocks.
like some sweet new Kabbalistic text,
prophecies of a heart hit by
lightning like the blackened
trunk split in half on the path.

"The way is not difficult
for those who have
no preferences."
So we decide not to name it
and enjoy it as it is,
watching heavy clouds speed
past the rocky ridge above.

I prefer nothing
and I’m light as a feather.
and Nancy adds a funny line.
That’s how it went,
drinking yellow leaves
on slabs of granite and
happy dog howls and
laughter lines shared among friends

stepping over a small stream
on a trail only 15 other people
even know about.
through yellowing grass
and burnt yellow leaves.
i breathe and hum and sing
silent mantras to
the sun above the stream bed and

the sagebrush and juniper berries,
and the colors overwhelm me like the
delicate yellow flower
we don’t know the name of
and Daniel and Charlie bounce around
blooming from between rocks like
playful goats and they pound
a few pitons into cracks.

(now that we had re-opened my meridians) I sit cross-legged as the prophecy hidden in this newly discovered lichen language comes powerfully true.
We step quickly down the trail
with strong legs and ankles
thinking of nothing,
smiling like Zen Lunatics.