The Singing Bowl

The mystery is safe (and sound),
A song that’s made by circling round,
Expanding out beyond the ring
Unseen yet clearly lingering.

When mental busy-ness has ceased,
With inner peace the tone’s released.
With deepened breath the hands learn much
And bless the bowl. A lover’s touch.

(The deer are drawn when those with soul
Transform the glade to singing bowl,
Expanding past the moment brief.
‘Tis writ on an eternal leaf.)

‘Tis alchemy: on metal base
A wooden mallet finds the trace
Where golden tone spills from the whole
To fill our hearts. The singing bowl.