Listening, tracing the sound water moving over rock, sliding over rock,
the granite bone of the mountain, and moving swiftest where it finds no resistance,
the surrounding sound suggesting other sounds, intimate voices in the distance,
instruments playing nothing all at once, so meaningless is the sound you forgot
where the listening started, so losing who the listener is, what is you-ending
or river-begins, as the water, held in the double vision of introspection
and awareness, achieves such clarity it is only perceived in reflection,
in movement so perfect it seems like stillness, the sound of water resonating
in the bright new autumn air, the light poised in an equinox of thought and action,
the mind moving to where it is freest to flow, since it has no stone to question it,
no intention to trouble its illusions, no time to wait for or turn to seek.