#4972 - Monday, July 15, 2013 -
Editor: Gloria Lee
According to Chuang Tzu, "The pivot of Tao passes through the
where all affirmations and denials converge." So you are neither
nor "imperfect." Neither "right" nor "wrong." Neither "good" nor
Neither "yin" nor "yang." Neither this nor that. You are,
the empty space in which all of these apparent opposites
Be infinitesimal under that sky, a creature
even the sailing
hawk misses, a wraith
among the rocks where the mist parts slowly.
Recall the way mere mortals are overwhelmed
how great reputations
dissolve with infirmity and how you,
stand a hairsbreadth from losing
everyone you hold dear.
Then, look back down the path to the north,
the way you came,
as if seeing
your entire past and then south
over the hazy blue coast as
to a broad future.
Recall the way you are all possibilities
you can see and how
you live best
as an appreciator of horizons
whether you reach them or
Admit that once you have got up
from your chair and opened
once you have walked out into the clean air
toward that edge and
taken the path up high
beyond the ordinary you have become
and the pilgrim,
the one who will tell the story
and the one, coming
From TOBAR PHADRAIC
River Flow: New and Selected
Photo: DW. Statue of Patrick, Mameen, Connemara
You ask what the crab offers, between its claws of gold,
and I say:
The sea will tell you.
You ask what the sea-squirt hopes for in its
What can it hope for?
I say that it waits on its time, as you do.
You question for whom the
algal Macrocystis offers its embraces.
Unloose it, unloose it, in a certain
ocean, and a certain time, that I know.
Though you turn, for my answer to the
Narwhals malicious ivory,
I say that you wait for a darker reply,
how the Sea-unicorn suffered the
It may be you question the Halcyons plumage, tremoring,
pure womb of the southern seas?
Now, on the crystalline house of the polyp you twine
threshing it to the husk?
You want to know the matter electric, caught on the
forks of the deep?
The stalactites armour that extends as crystal?
spear of the angler-fish, the music stretched-out
in the gulf, like a thread
I say to you that the ocean knows it, the life
of its circlings vast as
the sands, pure and innumerable,
and between the red vine-clusters, time has
the stone of the petals, the light of Medusas,
and the branches
are threshed in the web of the corals,
from the flowing horns infinite
I am the empty net that hangs,
beyond men, rendered dead by the shadowy
fingers grown used to the triangle, measured
by the shy hemisphere
I came, like you, penetrating the interminable starlight,
in the net of
the self, in the night, and found naked self,
the sole catch, the fish noosed
in the wind.
Alan Larus Photography
poem via Alan Larus