Vision 5

the old man sits seiza

within the chamber

stone walled

dry stones

set one upon the other around him

like a stupa

round and round

skin like dry parchment

thin as the starving buddha

waiting without eating

for enlightenment

thin white whiskers upon his chin

and upper lip

robed in silk

of a color that was once

a bright saffron yellow

does he still breathe?

yes.

Is he a prisoner?

no.

Does he wait for the question

to which there is no answer?

perhaps.

is there light?

perhaps, for those who have eyes to see.

are there words?

perhaps, for those who have ears to hear.

There is a sound

like water dripping on wet stone

(or is it blood?)

somewhere nearby

he counts the drops

one

by

one

his beating heart

and when he has counted enough?

look, his eyes open

look, his mouth opens

look, his tongue moves

does he speak?

his ribs like slats

his arms like sticks

his legs like poles

his belly like an empty basket

what is it?

what does he see

in his sealed chamber

whose infinite walls contain
neither window

nor door.

who does he see?

bright as a star before him.