What is the Hole

 

 

Along the path to somewhere

One may walk a long way

Without anything to say

Or any reason to wage or rage

Thoughts about the ease or the fray.

 

With mind in carry to the grand affair

One is neither meek nor bold

when there is nothing to hold.

The poet says, “Just turn the page”.

The frightened rabbit jumps into a hole!

 

Returning - offers up a blank stare.

For the answer offered - is an empty vase.

With beautiful form, color and space.

And the rabbit asks, “Is your mind a cage?

Or is it ready for a magical race?”

 

Said the poet, “Not here or anywhere

Are there flowers or poems for a page

And sometimes all heaven is in a rage!”

The universe too was once empty

Being neither child nor sage.

 

If one finds holes in plein air

And the canvases sit like a darkened stage;

A symphony standing mute at the podium ledge

Waits for that one moment when the notes breathe

And the hole of empty comes of age.