Thoughts in Meditation

As a boat passing through water

leaves no trace past its wake

so these poems pass from thought

to expression, to oblivion

More precious than a man’s child?

Nothing.  May my children shine. 

bright and bold as shooting star then

pass into dusk without a trace

The drowning man panics

his hands grasp at any branch 

at any glimmer of constancy, but

let time’s river wash over me 

dissolve all conceptions of love

break my heart’s every binding