Ocean

Life rolls towards you, giving and breaking. You hear:
grief-cries, hunger's anger, despair's numb crash.
A torn whisper conjures the ghosts of chance.
Longing flowers inside its lapse, white
foliage rustles… Sighs from a cloud throat —
beyond fear, beyond rapture. You hear:
the angelic hiss of dreams; gossip,
rumours of war, Babel. Fact's knife edge
tilts down, yields to a singing vapour —
voice of the one and the many. You hear:
the sound of a million ripped temple veils;
the sound of a field of light harvesting itself;
the first sound and the last, both conjoined;
a sound curved as the Tao.