We sat up late into the evening,
harmonising about self expression.
You, with your firm grasp of western
psychology wondered if non-doing
might also mean non-expression.
Everyone dreams, you said, and everyone
Conceals their fears. How do we free ourselves
from the nightmares of the dark mind
unless we learn to sing those dreams
and fears?
I, improvising on the Tao, said that we are
living Buddha's bubble existence. I questioned
if a pure enough music wouldn't just absorb it all?
Or perhaps, if we were truly in the moment
of song, all the sounds of discord
might not really exist.
Today, I marvel at the clarity of that duet.
Two souls, in contrapuntal conversation,
playing the music of intelligence and love on
two different instruments. What wonderful music.
Now I am relearning to play solo. You, one imagines,
are rehearsing new compositions.
My improvisations
tend to the saxophone, rifts exploring the
intermingled notes of tears and laughter.
I wait, impatient with anticipation, to hear the
sounds of your new duet.