Lojong Poems: Nine
Apply these proverbs in everything you do.
Sunset in the Sonoran Desert
is as quiet as a funeral.
Squawking birds, a coyote's howl,
quiet trickle of Sabino Creek
all offer a soliloquy of loss.
I am not myself in this chapel
of saguaros and chollas.
The man who left his car
in the parking lot
ceases to exist, has vanished.
Breathe in, breathe out.
My thoughts mingle, intertwine
with the voices of stones,
the wet language of succulents,
the soul of red rock cliffs
shrouded by a few clouds.
Beneath the surfaces of things,
at some depth where molecules
hold domain, the fragile self
and the desert are one,
deeply breathing, transcendent.
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