Twilight on the trodden trail
through the hills above the harbor,
sifting between two worlds, floating worlds
of light and dark, known and not, you and I,
blending in and out of each other, percolating,
circulating within each other, feeling to infinity,
finding delicate blue feathers, clustered oak balls,
odd auspicious stones, till suddenly here we are:
enveloped in stillness, already out of time,
now twin silk-soft breezes flutter around us
like butterfly scarves beneath a dusk-blue sky.
Cast against the background of brown earth,
a hundred innocent yellow wildflowers
are woven into an exquisite pattern
no artist could hope to duplicate.
The whole phenomenal world
is our mirror now.
And here I seem to be floating up,
high into the vastness of sky above.
You ask me what I see,
and when I say
“I am the sky.”