What moves?
A poem and an inquiry
Is it the water that moves, or the boat, or me sitting on the boat?
Is it the wind that moves in the trees? Or the trees in the wind?
Is it the string that moves, or the bow, or the cello player?
Is it the soundwave, or my eardrums, or the neurons in my brain?
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Is it the child playing in the park, or the ball bouncing on the ground, or the ground itself?
Is it the door opening, or the person pushing it?
Or is it my mind creating this story of what I have heard?
Who hears these sounds?
Who writes these lines?
Who hears these words?
Who knows?
Inspired by, amongst other things, Case 29 of the Gateless Gate (‘not the wind, ‘not the flag’), sitting in the London zen centre, and sitting outside at Number 90 on the canal.
