The illusion of physical reality
Flits above the razor grass,
As eucalyptus and bamboo
Swirl in empyrean calm.
Toads cry from the sky,
Lizards disappear,
The tree leaves shake like coins.
Soon in lapping flames of wind
Shadows dislodge from shapes
To shiver away the dust
Of what is seen, and sweep
The residue of being
In an endless empty echoing
Where everything becomes more clear
As it disappears.
Then we are left with
The quiet of the swaying trees
And, slowly, the real is revealed.
