Melancholy remembrance
of a good time, too short, too transient,
too weak to stand the cruelty of the passing time;
of a bad time, too bad, too persisting,
too lasting that even time cannot wipe away.
Why did you talk as if you were answering questions?
Why the strained look on your face as if
you were a student preparing for a dreadful test?
All those mistaken views you have about me.
Blame the prevalence of stereotypes.
Blame the way we were brought up,
having to negotiate between
what we desire, what is allowed, and what is appropriate.
We are separated by our perceived image of each other.
Silence suddenly assumes mysterious meanings.
Actually not only silence,
misunderstanding, misperception,
things we vaguely feel but don't know how to express
all come up to declare their presence, display their significance
The memory
does not stop
the being
in our own
the presence
as an event
the experience
for ourselves
the corrupt of the deed
is not
to make amends
Ask someone else
who has the duty
to answer it
this questioning is obscene
to understand means to answer
it takes
oneself
from the entanglements
of intimacy
to tear off
from a distance
with formal attributes
about functionality
of following and leading
on your own
not on your feet
from others
to be able to stand
the senso-motor skills
in the body image of movement
what we perceive
or not
the words
disguise
Movement in action
Movement cannot lie
The silence
as a prerequisite
in zen
of itself
about meditation
by a koan
through guidance
of the Zen master
the emptiness
the teaching
through instruction
to get
is in countertransference
in engagement
into the emotional world
the innermost
of a human
nobody goes
to others
the human being
in the opposite
must remain a secret to us
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