Dwarfed by the sky at night These fearless mountains are nearly lost from sight Track the hill with a harvest moon Moving, shifting on across a winter sky
My thoughts drift away An Illusion of light Feel the rain in the air Where the thin mist is hiding, shrouded [I'm] there
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Sometimes there would be a rush of noisy visitors and the silence of the monastery would be shattered. This would upset the monks; not the Master who seemed just as content with the noise as with the silence. To those protesting he said one day, "Silence is not the absence of sound, but the absence of self. "