One Hand Clapping....

This in response to a discussion about the extinction of species while sitting in meditation this morning:

Classic query: What is the sound of one hand clapping?
My response: There is no hand, there is no clapping,
there is no sound.

Query: What is the sound of one species demise?
It is the thunderous sound of one tear
crashing to the ground.
It is the tear of all form and its joy.
Form arises for a season.
Its mortification sure.

Save what can be saved. Weep for the moment.
That is what we do. Rejoice in the emptiness
of all form. Form is the illusion
that arises to make emptiness seem real.
Is there no thing?
Is there something?
Yes.