I reached the park
Next to the temple,
Accompanied by each
Of my terrible fears.
The sun was not oblivious,
Touched me with modest strength
Without ever intruding.
I sat on a moss-filled bench,
Took off my shoes and socks,
Rested my feet on the dried,
Browned leaves of winter’s end.
Then I crossed my legs,
Straightened my back to meditate,
And instantly, I started to cry.
I heaved, I wailed,
My sadness painted
Every hill and pathway
At the foot of the temple.
When my sobs weakened,
Weary, I lifted my head
From its home in my thin,
Cold hands, my heart heavy,
Until, and I don’t know how,
The clattering in my mind stilled,
As though I had made
The whole thing up,
All the restless years of my life,
And in front of me,
Bathed in complete silence,
The things before me appeared
As if for the first time,
And the tree was a tree,
The rolling hills, hills,
A gentle, chilled breeze
Was not the leaves chattering,
Heads bent together in glee,
Was just wind in the tree,
And the quiet revealed to me
In stark relief the theatre of noise
I had mistaken for
The heart of my existence.
I sat in wonder.
I laughed in my heart.
I am here for no other reason,
I realized, than just to be,
In service of what
Has always been here,
And cannot disappear,
And I have to move,
Finally, as I long to,
In the flow of the one
Constant, the one truth
Of this motion unceasing,
This perpetual gift
Of our lives in this life,
From the place that doesn’t die.
– Tammy Takahashi
There's No War in World 