Mountain retreat notes…. the breath of the inner Moon





I was thinking this morning about our great cities

the tall buildings, the busy streets below,

the people, conducting their lives,

so many goals to be attained,

so many destinies to be fulfilled,


so many important speeches to be delivered,

so many decisions to be made,

ideas to implement, actions to be taken,

problems to be solved,

so many selves…..


What am I doing here in the mountains ?

contemplating thin clouds

as they dissolve in the empty sky,

breathing the breath of the inner Moon.


But then again…..I thought,

have the birds stopped singing ?

have the flowers stopped flowering ?

have the celestial bodies stopped turning

in their immeasurable vastness ?



How much can we control ?


the beat of our hearts ?

the dreams that we dream ?

the silence of our own death ?


” We are all too ready to believe that the self that we have created out of our more or less inauthentic efforts to be real in the eyes of others is a ‘real self ‘. We even take it for our identity. Fidelity to such a non identity is of course infidelity to our real person, which is hidden in mystery. Who will you find that has enough faith and self-respect to attend to this mystery and to begin by accepting himself as unknown ? ”


Thomas Merton`s words echoed in my mind….


white mists from below were rising up

caressing weightlessly the dark pines.


I had another sip of the tea

from the cup lying in my cold hands,

outside, the moistened leaves

were shining in the morning light.











3 thoughts on “Mountain retreat notes…. the breath of the inner Moon

  1. funny you should write this. just yesterday I found myself composing a poem about people. The sun had yet to rise and I was thinking of each person in the world wakening to a new day, how their eyes open, how they fall into the routine of whatever their daily existence is. I thought of you waking to a new day, pottering around making your tea, the smell of an incense stick, a candle lit.
    I thought of the fisherman rising before dawn, bracing himself before a cold wind and the vegetable seller gathering his wares to take to market. The city was full of blank faces as people submerged their true selves in order to survive.
    Everyone, billions of people flooded my mind, I felt I was looking through a billion doorways.
    when I went to write… this is what came out…

    nothing, there were no words for me today. just an immense understanding that everything is rich in meaning but in the end there is nothing to say.

  2. Elio, Its lovely to feel your thoghts and imagine your feelings up there.
    I suppose you’re now in the big city experiencing the vast gap that you were writing about.
    I can still feel it so strongly while running around in my western world after my beach and mountains period in India.
    Its almost like the gap between the earth and the skys, action and thoghts, body and soul.
    I guess they both ment to dance together, hand by hand, after all.
    Thanks and Love, Karen

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