Hackers: Let The Music Back In

Let the music back in, let it be loud;

Let it dissolve the thoughts that swim unrelenting,

Thoughts of trails freshly climbed, loose soil knocked by boots of the wandering sage;

Thoughts of barren scree, bearded with ice;

Thoughts of faithless gentlemen ruined by a world of devotees, each livid, maddened by his cause, unthinking in their pursuit;

Of two fatal white holes, dotted with red, two thin fingers apart;

Of the long roaming Bodhisattvas, without titles, without exploitation, without descriptions forced upon them;

Of a silence that scratches

Like the woollen underwear of the monk's habit;

Devotion proved by suffering.

No silk graces my two sore cheeks,

But my ears shall never be empty.

                                                                           Ben Schofield