To A Friend

The air is stiller by
way of graceful vibrations:
we are guests of a man who laughs as
he smiles, talks as he
laughs, and lets the trace of
a smile make his point.

That trace appears as he admits
"I studied Christianity" - the
past tense implying two things:
that he does no longer
and that now he digs a bit deeper.

We talk for six hours,
less an interrogation,
more a meeting of souls,
while our children flit in
from the next room,
radiating the pleasure of
new and gracious friendship.

I feel the same way.
The conversation goes from
his training to my teaching,
from "just sitting" to the
computer he's building from scratch.
"My brother's an engineer",
says he, "so I
wanted to try, too."

He wants to practice his English -
which helps because I have yet to
see a Japanese dictionary explaining
nam-myo-ho-renge-kyo:
the devotion to the teaching of the
law of cause-and-effect, he states,
quite plainly.

Later I notice four computers
in the entryway,
"The one I showed you",
he smiles,
"is number five."

True grace, like stream water
caressing the pebbles at the bottom,
is an elusive quarry,
one arising from rare in-the-moment
moments where it is enough
when
all that you are
is all that you are.

Thank you Gen, for teaching me thus.