Clanging Gongs, Noisy Bells
C
Cynthia Buhain-baello
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Can the clay say to the Potter
'This is how You must mold me...'
Or can the jar the say to the water-
'Come here and pour on me.'
Can the bird say to the trees
'Get down your branches, carry me'
Can mortals tell the sun they see
'Be light and shine on me! '
Such caprice and human folly
Are rooted on mere feeble ground
Imaginations that are simply
Myths and tales where fools abound.
Conjectures easy to pursue
But Emptiness of soul may dwell
Words are many, none are true-
Just clanging gongs and noisy bells!
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