Why Wayfarers Walk on Moonlit Nights
a multi-part poem at the end of the Wood Snake Cycle
“The Oldest Instruction”
Make a companion of the four seasons. — Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), Japanese Wayfarer-sage
Some years ago, I allowed the red dust of the world
to scramble my link to Serene Heart-Mind Illumination.
This is when,
like Grandfather Five Willows at the Headwaters,
I had to flee the net of dust —
return to the way of gardens and high woodland paths,
hojicha tea, junmai sake on rain-slick rocks.
Then, purified of the dust, the Path opened itself to me again.
Sandal-strapped feet moving through Spring ferns
Cold Summer river-water on sweat-dappled brow
Autumn Silence
Slow Rhythm of Winter —
the oldest instruction there is.
“The Longest Conversation”
At an altar
dedicated to The Way
there can come a realization
that some part of us
has been in perpetual conversation
with an Unseen-Something
since we were tadpole-catching age.
That conversation
is the only home
there ever is.
“Antidote”
Eternal relatives,
when you fear,
when you doubt,
when you grieve and mourn,
remember to drink deep
from the Great Origin.
“Messenger of Inari”
Laughing fangs glide overhead.
Crescent-tips turned slightly downward
speak of rain, ice, high winds —
pure evidence that Moon is part-Fox Goddess.
With such companioning comes rice-wine clarity.
“Silent Song of the Mountain Faithful”
dragonflies hover above river eddy swirls
sun-roasted pine-wind perfumes the air
cicada-song at midnight
long-ago memory
lantern-light
moon-kissed rice-wine
every morning
every night
silent song of the mountain faithful
“The Wayfarer’s Moon”
Wide awake.
3:00 a.m.
On the tip of my tongue:
The Wayfarer’s Moon.
Blinding light.
Unblinding clarity.
The Wayfarer’s Moon
is every moon
and every night
without a moon.
The Wayfarer’s Moon
is a fire on the mountain,
an autumn journey West,
one sip of pine forest tea,
a pause between
the unfurling winds
of the seasons.
The Wayfarer’s Moon
is the last cicada of the year,
a dead hawk falling at your feet,
the unstitching of a long-prized tapestry,
a return to your naked, nameless state.
The Wayfarer’s Moon
is a moon both inside
and outside this solar system.
It is a moon beyond grasping.
Self-Cosmos Alignment —
the Wayfarer’s Moon
is hillwalking-poet banditry.
__________________________________________________________
© 2026 / Frank Inzan Owen / from The Luminous Procession: Poems From Within and Beyond the World of Red Dust
soundscape: “Floating in Memories” / In the Silence of the Subconscious by Moss Garden




oh frank so glad to know/
read your soulmind
spontaneous response to the first offering “Oh holy god”
astounded by the sweep/depth of you celebrating your soul’s/spirit’s
life
almost psychedelic frequencies wafted by this one’s being
what a splendid way to begin a saturday morning
will listen to the rest
one at a time to
really savor the flavor
will be brave and atempt
to support you via the electronic payment
♡ joyce eaglelight