The ghosts of monks are here
in this amphitheater to God –
quietly open, welcoming

the birds, everywhere birds,
sky, grass, weedy flowers –
as if to say,

worship yourself, O World.
We are long gone,
but reverence is still here

in the arches,
in the stones.



[First published in Blindman’s Rainbow, Winter 2000/2001]

09/30/2001

Posted on 09/30/2001
Copyright © 2025 Bruce W Niedt