I am like a reed of flesh,
open to the world through nine holes,
while the empty space within me:
this defines who I am.
The softest breath, on a windless day,
flows through me and my music is heard.
But I am not the music.
Such sound is never from me alone.
What you hear is the playing of Another...
Each body carves out a portion of space,
so that as we move, it moves,
and a sense of continuity is formed.
Yet the body only defines what has no existence --
like a statement about what Truth is not.
Only an empty space, caught within the reed,
accessed by apertures so very minor:
yet on a windless day, beside the shores of the ocean,
come! and hear a wondrous melody played.
