Wonder and desire are how the self changes
into the camouflage of everything.
And so it is these unhidden wrens cry their high pitches
from the stark branches of a winter maple.
Even if I did revisit the past,
what could I change that wouldn’t unravel
the cloth of who I need to be?
When, before the bells of wisdom and compassion chimed,
Buddha was asked why there was no self,
his answer disappeared into silence.
If I were to speak out now,
the one who would listen is gone,
and the self I am not is the sound of an echo
after the bells have been struck.