A philosopher stepped forward:
Master, is not a stone a microcosm, like an olive pit?
Recondite, willing to give but little of itself?
Master, a stone may lie in a riverbed for an eon, giving nothing, observing all, wearing smooth, dwindling, slowly diminishing, until at last----- nothing.
But where is the stone of eons past?
In what context does it still exist?
Is it a stone still, Master, or is it part of us all?
The master replied:
Do you have a question to ask, or do you want to make a speech?
Master, is not a stone a microcosm, like an olive pit?
Recondite, willing to give but little of itself?
Master, a stone may lie in a riverbed for an eon, giving nothing, observing all, wearing smooth, dwindling, slowly diminishing, until at last----- nothing.
But where is the stone of eons past?
In what context does it still exist?
Is it a stone still, Master, or is it part of us all?
The master replied:
Do you have a question to ask, or do you want to make a speech?
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