Way

Who is it for,
this nearly motionless pursuit,
this slow and pensive breathing
in perforated tubes of cedar,
this quiet construction
of plaintive pentatonic melody?
May it be for you alone,
O God
my song in silence,
O Lord
my light in darkness
O Holy
who knows without learning
these fumbling expressions
these reachings of my heart
which in the end
knows no other way,
which in the end
knows no Other?