Silence lingers, waiting.
Patient. Unperturbed by our distractions.
Empty thoughts beget empty words.
Little theories govern
Little men.
In every mind a watcher.
Noting, recording, judging. The
Gold standard
Its well-spring of confusion.
Silence lingers, waiting.
Dutiful. Unattached to our extractions.
Empty acts beget empty feelings.
Fullness is flatness. The
Universe laughs as we grasp for meaning.
Nothing is a secret key. True. Yet one
Cannot even hold to this. Such is the way of the
Tao.
Tim Paling