In the Hush

In the hush of bamboo, twilight descends,  

The Zen Master sits where the forest bends,  

Wrapped in robes, his form serene and still,  

Breath soft as mist that crowns the hill.  

All fades but the pulse of dusk’s gentle ends.  

The wind stirs lightly, a whisper, a song,  

Through slender stalks, where shadows throng.  

Each leaf a note, each rustle a word,  

In silence he listens, yet nothing is heard,  

For all things merge where he belongs.  

Bare feet on earth, his heartbeat slows,  

In the cradle of green, his spirit flows.  

Eyes closed, the world falls away,  

Thoughts dissolve like dawn’s soft ray,  

And only the breath of the forest knows.  

The bamboo bows, its tall spires sway,  

As darkness gathers the last of day.  

The master rests, alone yet whole,  

Bound by no need, no fear, no goal,  

A drop in the night’s unfolding play.  

And when he rises, as shadows give birth,  

To stars that flicker in heaven’s girth,  

He steps as light as a floating leaf,  

One with the night, his heart in brief  

Takes leave of the forest and returns to earth.