Afternoon in Rome (Zhen, Shan, Ren)
Through corridors of fading gold,
where silence speaks and time grows old,
a door of wood, no throne, no crown—
and there he sat, in simple gown.
October light in Roman air,
like honey drifting everywhere,
Gänswein walks, composed and still,
as if he bends the passing will.
A desk of books, a quiet face,
both tired and awake in grace,
a cup of tea, a distant shore—
Bavarian hills forevermore.
“You come from Franconia,” he said,
not asking—knowing it instead,
“Sit down, the tea is warm for you.”
And something in the moment grew.
Zhen, Shan, Ren — a quiet flame,
truth and mercy, without a name,
Different paths, but still the same,
One silent truth we cannot claim.
Zhen, Shan, Ren — the heart made clear,
beyond all doubt, beyond all fear,
In every faith, the echo near—
The good is always drawing near.
He spoke of mountains, childhood days,
of Chiemsee lost in memory’s haze,
“You don’t miss places,” soft and slow,
“You miss the way you used to know.”
I spoke of paths I walk each dawn,
of stillness where the self is gone,
Of truth and kindness, patience too—
A quiet life, a steady view.
He leaned ahead, a scholar’s gaze,
as if he found in foreign ways
A mirror of what he once knew—
old wisdom wearing something new.
Zhen, Shan, Ren — a quiet flame,
truth and mercy, without a name,
Different paths, but still the same,
One silent truth we cannot claim.
Zhen, Shan, Ren — the heart made clear,
beyond all doubt, beyond all fear,
In every faith, the echo near—
The good is always drawing near.
Beneath the dome, the voices fade,
where stone and light in stillness blend,
“The self steps back,” he gently said,
“and learns at last to understand.”
Mozart laughs in golden air,
Michelangelo carved a prayer,
Beauty speaks where words fall short—
a quiet, sacred last resort.
In hidden halls where records sleep,
where human voices softly weep,
Not kings, not power, not decree—
but mercy writes down history.
A letter from a distant hand,
a priest unsure what love demands,
“The Church,” he said, “is written there—
in every act of human care.”
Wu wei… let go…
Fiat… let flow…
Zhen, Shan, Ren — a living guide,
through doubt and darkness side by side,
No need to conquer, none to hide—
just walk the truth you hold inside.
Zhen, Shan, Ren — the quiet way,
not in words, but how we stay,
The world is lost in what to say—
but still, the good will find its way.
“Keep practicing,” he said at last,
a voice that lingers, echoing past,
And in the Roman evening air—
I felt a truth still waiting there.
S.
Song: https://www.ganjingworld.com/s/VgNxYvl70k