Case 97 The Scorn of the Time
When heaven changes to earth,
the sky tumbles down, lakes go belly-up.
Cliffs fall over like a teapot cracking
beneath the weight of the tea.
Our own scorn smothers the history of evil.
The latest snow obscures the last.
Boiling water still melts ice.
I always turn the answers around in my fingers.
I urge you to stop before reaching the end:
You must check if the words are still emitting light.
A jewel in the palm reflects rays to the sun.
You lose it at once when it's cast in the waters,
not for friend nor for enemy,
know me or fool me,
all lies open to you.
From David Rothenberg, Blue Cliff Record: Zen Echoes (New Paltz, NY: Codhill Press, 2001).