But for birdsong, the mountain would be quiet

Friend through years and decades
From my doorway
I watch you leave the mountain
And disappear into the darkness of night.
When will I see you again?

Leaves disappear with the autumn winds
And reappear as green buds in the spring
That is the pattern
That is the Way.

Let’s roam the galaxy,
Lost in imaginary worlds
But for birdsong,
The mountain would be quiet.

This quiet, punctuated only by birdsong, echoes the ancient wisdom of poets like Wang Wei and Han Shan. They understood that such sounds are not interruptions, but rather invitations to deeper presence and the experience of emptiness, revealing the profound stillness that underlies all phenomena.

Distrust emotion.

Zen Poetry and the Quiet Mountain

This meditation draws from the tradition of ancient Chinese Zen poets like Wang Wei and Han Shan (Cold Mountain), who found the Tao in wilderness solitude and the small sounds that punctuate silence. Their poetry teaches us to listen—not only to birdsong, but to the quiet that surrounds it.

Wang Wei called this the soundless teaching — the Tao present not in grand gestures but in the interval between one bird's call and the next.