He sent out his young thoughts to live by the river,
to know its rapids, meandering eddies, its still pools,
the canyon walls carved by the grace of moving water.
Later he summoned his river thoughts home where he
bathed in them until there was only water, then water
became an upright animal that walked on the land.
The land was an older thought, but it originated
in the same star from which the shimmering light
pours down on water and becomes a new thought.
That thought has no containment, not even a body,
and so it is more than itself, more than its father
and mother the stars, more than any word for it.
The secret of this thought is that it seems so real.
So much is riding on this one thought, it is like
the giant tortoise carrying the whole world.
Some claim it has supported the world’s weight
for many billions of years, although if asked where
that mythic turtle comes from, nobody can say.
Just so, we meander along at our own pace,
minds often heavy with the weight of thoughts.
Meanwhile, there’s a twig with a green leaf afloat
on the stream. It has no thoughts, no special desires.
It’s carried along down river with the current,
returning at last to its home in the stars.
The time for willfulness may finally be over.
Schools of tiny fish dart out of sight.