cold mountain (58)

where we raise the dust today
long ago was an endless sea

The prayer flags cast diaphanous shadows on the fence. Already, they are beginning to fray. Someday the string between the aspens will connect only faded tatters, their prayers long ago released on the wind, to travel the world and mingle with the dust of foreign places; power found in transition, in transformation.

Chinese and English pp. 74-75, here.

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