Just before the music begins,
silence flows through the hall.
Before his arrow flies, the archer
holds the bow string still and taut.
The creek gathers itself in stillness
before it cascades in its fall.
The great song of being travels
in oscillating waves, the ebb
becoming the flow, the up the down,
the off the on, the hush the rush.
And in the space between,
the deep and silent space,
Love breathes its song.