The Art of Asking Koan

From farther than far they flocked in meeting

And sat at Koan’s stoop with the same long face,

The same sigh of solitary seeking,

The same cupped hands met at the waist 

And in their hands lay an impossible knot,

Of stories and struggles, they did admit, 

How they had tugged it but could not, 

By God, they could not disentangle it.

Groaning, they yanked and they teased

And only cranked the tension up a notch.

 “O Master Koan, we beg of you, please!’

How do we unravel this wretched knot?”

“Can you see the reflection of the Moon

In an unsettled and muddied pond?

Look again, look softer, look soon,

For the Right Question out of your bond”

“But how can we find the Right Question?

Master, where can we humbly start?”

“In the raw Truth there is no deflection,

In the art of listening to the Heart

“There is only one way to Grace’s face,

With Purity and your Sincerest Self,

Thus I urge you to a pondering place

And ask: “Can a knot untie itself?”