by Sam Hollerup

Created on: February 20, 2009

Zen

The little Zen hide away sits on top of a hill
The wind blows quick and strong
Gates block off a once free land that hides a forgotten thrill
No one is here by the temple because of the winds chill
The little Zen hide away tells me a forgotten song.

Small caves litter the side of this place
Iron bars say no trespass
They mar the land, the side of the cliff face
Wide open ranges where people mediate are no longer there; leaving no trace
I sit among the ruins: pray and fast.

Tiny rocks litter the ground
The voice of the bell whispers
The deserted Zen temple makes no sound
The wind flies along singing songs, going round and round
And the only visitor disappears.

Learn more about this author, Sam Hollerup.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.