What is left if there are no thoughts?

Around 60,000 thoughts per day run through the human mind

And of those how many upon reflection can we say is true?

Narratives running, stories being told, and yet to who?

Chatter occupying all of the space available each day

So what is left then when moments of quietude erupt 

Out of the gentle and calming place within

When the roaring Oceans of thoughts

Subside down into a calm dam reflecting a crescent moon?

It is in the space in between in which invites enquiry,

No analysing or questions and even less answers

It is like a budding Rose emerging amongst crowded weeds

A pocket of light that illuminates what was being shadowed

The art of Tea is one that encompasses over lifetimes 

To let go of the thoughts which consume 

And embrace places within that have been left dormant

Reminding us of the innocence of each and every moment

As the Incence smoke wafts above and dissolves in seconds

So too do our lives rise and then fall over decades

In the blink of an eye they are gone

And both equally and undoubtably true 

As Tea is steeped in our pots, resting and patient

There is a bridge which merges inner and outer

A place which feels familiar and tactile

Yet becomes vague and foreign all too often 

It is a language that cannot be taught with words

For letters and sentences dilute a precious feeling

As a knowing inside gets lost in translation

When being presented to the audience outside

So if the 60,000 thoughts a day were to be removed,

Who is left and what do you know about yourself?

Take away all identities and everything is then gained

As silence echoes for eternity and thoughts a mere second.