isobelmtl

Writing under a Montreal sky

 

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Sitting at the Zen Centre.

The silvery note struck.

Seconds held in a frame

of silence, of consciousness.

Frame disolved into the vast

unconsciousness universe.

All who sit belong there.

The clapper.  All rise.

Walking Zen.  Each second a step.

Walkng behind another.

Followed by another.

Each one a second of eternity.

A second on the round face of the clock

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