This and That


This expression
That experience
Where do the two meet?
Don’t say the One.

But the danger is
For the one saying it
For the other understanding it
Thinking comprehension.

Settled here now
In the lee of the summit
Sliding down North slope
Into cool beech trees.

A woodpecker taps it
Swifts wing it
Downways a wild boar
Wakes into the early evening.

It is so vast
Swelling here in my chest
It will spill out
And cover the cosmos entire.

These summer dry leaves
Sly underfoot
Make waying an adventure
Ever downhill.

These woods are empty
No-one ever comes
Yet even here
Traces remain.

Who was ever called by name?
Who was ever saved by hand?
You want it to be
But who was ever fullfilled by want?

Sudden still
Who can say this
Who can say that
The silence of the forest.

As long as this
An indrawn breath
As deep as that
The very next thought.



About Jamie Nicol

Living in the forested hills of Catalonia, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Zen teacher, recovering philosopher, small-scale natural farmer. Writing just what comes.
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