Friday, December 18, 2009


there was a novice with every intention on going into the room to sign the paper ... but when he got the pen in hand he thought to look up into the face of the master on the other side of the table ... to ask him who are you ... but when he did that he could not see the face of the master though he looked straight into it ... he thought he caught one eye but then must travel hours to find the other ... no no it must be ages before the sound of his own voice should reach the master one ear and then the other ... and what a crowd there was now between them across those ages ... all looking forward and he behind looking past the back of their heads ... and all their hands above those heads many more than twice the number of heads he thought ... and each hand waving a book ... and all the pages in all the books rippling in the breeze ... till all the breeze and the scent of the pages and the fragrance of the still moist ink flew before him like a mist on wings ... and the air was delightful ... and the light ahead of it calling it on and he always behind following ... his mouth his ears his eyes wide open ... what a bemusement he thought to love god and not know it

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