A couple times ago when I was here
I wrote a poem which I have since forgotten.
It mentioned a pond and lotuses, silence and meditation.
We sat solid under a tiny circus tent,
as our guru played our chakras on his ancient sitar.
Then he talked a bit about our life
and our being one with mother earth.
He spoke of our bodies as water and empty space
that vibrate, resonate to waves of sound,
sounds that can produce harmony or its opposite.
Ragas are specific to times of day as are we.
Eight periods of three hours, each with its own music.
The teacher said there is no space between now
and tomorrow. Then he played his sitar and we sat,
trying to be still, but bothered by the biting flies.
After that we broke for lunch
and I wrote that poem I mentioned.