we can say it with silence our native tongue - w.s.merwin * things falling away arrayed yet ungraspable slowly the hand opens the mind stillness is * the heart realm of all paths the home crossings here and there movement incessant closures none * in its fullness just empty space knows no hurdles the heart * whose heart whispers here in this mountain heat bracing for winds unflinching * everything opens up is laid bare before the rocks before the sky becomes breath * ni