To a Monk

Oh sages silent on your grassy peaks, what deep empty wisdom does the sun's light bring to view? The shadows crossing, reaching, stretching as the sun departs from view?

What silent deeply steeped and blissful satisfaction comes
as daily you sit by lonely twisted pine and pray?
Prayer so highly keen and wordless that the world is one again?

The rocky path where hardy spiney grasses thrive,
and widening mountain wind swings high-puffed 
sky-top clouds on high; the dazzling sun!
and soul of wisdom lost and free in wild and
clear abandon to that heart of All?

Peace be with thee.

Rishikesh, 1970