Freely I Watch The Tracks Of The Flying Birds

The sage would have us believe,
birds fly for free.

Or is it that he’s free,
while they toil to entertain?

Matters not – I was told freedom is to be found,
So now walk I here to contemplate and search.

Camera in hand I searched for these, “free birds,”
If I, the perfect photo captured, would study it’s detail in glorious rapture.

The wonderous beauty of a single moment,
Stilled and suspended for all eternity.

Oh the lifetimes one could spend!
Dying in that single moment.

Alas, though I looked,
The birds had long gone.

Carefully I retraced all my steps,
The stream and the grasses.

Through the mists, now with haste,
To look over Subhuti’s cliff.

Those damn messy flowers!!
Beautiful though they should be, bring me only frustration and tears.

Who has want of flowers,
When it’s birds we search?

But in them hung the reminder,
Movement resorts to blows.

So with stillness as ever could be,
And with all the carefullness of my search,

No birds were to be found,
The glorious moment having long passed.

Not even the tracks of their flights
Remained for my rapt attention.

Yet in my folly,
I was spared just for this moment.

For as the words of my frustration
Were stirring in my mouth,

I felt the earth move beneath my feet,
As though shaken by the gods.

In wonder I beheld,
More flowers as they fell.

For what I thought to be a mess,
Was a praise from the gods to he who had not spoke.

For hidden in the cleft,
My haste had overlooked.

The silent one,
Who’s wisdom surpassed speach.

My eye now understanding,
Looks no longer without.

For it’s not in the birds or flow’rs,
But in the silence of wisdom that true freedom can be found.

Inspired for submission to the Uncertainty Club’s 2018 Winter Edition

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