The sound of a bell is slow.
Hearing it, you could run across the fields
As the booming soars away
And catch the bellsound in the trees,
Or climbing up the far hills,
Just as clear as it was when it left the tower.
There is no speed in a world of peace.
No guns or zipping bullets,
No fast talking lies,
No rush hours, swift cars,
Jets beyond the soundspeed.
There is no time to waste:
There is no time.
But this is peace: a snail,
A patch of flowers, the statue of a tree,
A badger sitting in an earth entrance, waiting,
A buddha contemplating, the crack in a stone.
This crazy world could fall into
The crack in a stone
And disappear.
תגובות