2524

2523

2522

2521

2520

2519

2518

2518
The silent buddha is made of stone,
Of stone the silence too.
His home articulate
With the atmosphere,
Articulate with thought:
The morning sky is but the temple apse
That opens the vaulting span,
There upon the first hour braced,
Here entangled in the rising sun.

2517

2516

2515

2514

2513

2512

2512
At this exhalation
Came a pause to catch the tail of a thought
Til the pause was sovereign,
As a surface to an echo,
As forever to a breath:
By this unremitting heart
Am I jailer of myself.

2511

2510