By Yoonjin Jung
What is truth,
but a silent look of acknowledgement,
between a source that knows its destination
and a destination that knows its source.
Oceans and rivers call to one another
One awaiting completion, the other fulfillment.
The reed flute and the reed bed
Exchange sigh for silence and suffer the scythe.
The eyes are mirrors
For the modest soul behind them,
and the soul that stands before them.
Clarity beckons clarity, to beget clarity.
Beheld by the beloved
like grey smoke dancing in an invisible wind
The shadow finds its solace in darkness,
The illuminated finds peace within illumination.
Two mirrors infinitely reflect the truth.
So, how could I not want to know more of the unknowable.
What is a more truthful true than beholding with the heart
That which cannot be seen with the eyes?
