- As I meditate here, tranquil,
- by this gently burbling stream,
- dappled with patches of afternoon sunlight,
- autumnally serene,
- a tiny breeze troubles the placid pool -
- it trembles, and I must respond.
- I sense you, my mirror-brother, by
- your equally peaceful pond.
- Your empire just as vast as mine,
- your castle just as steep,
- its guardians just as many and
- its treasure-hoard as deep.
- Pity the poor leaf, swirling by,
- lost in its confusion:
- we're beyond that, you and I,
- we have no illusions.
- Still, the puzzle of this push and pull,
- this yin-and-yang of ours,
- is a mystery I cannot see
- though I stare and stare for hours.
- The twisting, flowing dance we dance
- has reached a sorry state.
- Our balance is precarious.
- We both just sit and wait.
- My slightest motion would send out ripples
- which you would swiftly sense,
- so our whirling waltz of force is frozen,
- implacable in defense.
- Yet at the heart, where we are one,
- is a single triumphant cry:
- both of us willing in an instant to kill -
- in an instant, to die.
Boulder Creek, July 18, 1998
revised December 1998 - January 1999
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