The earth is in meditation,
rock sure between what passes,
girt with sea and river.
Mountains are its power,
immoveable, their heads like lions’
thrust into sun, storm, cloud.
Effortless, the antelope
bounds up the slope,
Arrow-swift, graceful, it too
is in meditation, being mostly dearly
itself, unaware of otherness,
intent with life and joy
in the paradise of now.
