The rooster crows as if it were hoisting with its thin legs
The next day, buried with all his weight in the darkness of the night.
He cries out, he throws himself into his cry, each time an agony,
Dozens of times, the rooster dies in the early morning.
However, the night goes away and the day comes, without him.
Though he shouts at the top of his voice, the rooster doesn’t know that he has nothing to do with it.
The wise man would say that it is precisely because he knows the uselessness of his participation
to the dance of day and night that he gives himself entirely.
And that to our ears, irritated by so much unproductivity,
He teaches gift, free offering, pure loss,
The absence of « the why »,
The « what is, the « all one’s heart », the « to the top»,
the Beauty that cannot be explained.
©FJ March 2024
Recueils / Participation/ Groupe De Pratique
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Notes & Silence 
Totally. 👍🏽
J’aimeAimé par 1 personne
The rooster does what roosters do. It can do no other. Perhaps the problem we face is that human falsity makes us try to be something other than what we are.
J’aimeAimé par 1 personne
This, as well, is our true nature.
And potentially part of the meaning of « non-doing »
J’aimeAimé par 1 personne
Then what hope of leaving behind self delusion?
J’aimeAimé par 1 personne