Look at the cherry blossoms!
Their color and scent fall with them,
Are gone forever,
Yet mindless
The spring comes again.
sick of it whatever it's called sick of the names
I dedicate every pore to what's here
Mots clés light transcendence race-relations old-songs
Studying texts and stiff meditation can make you lose your Original Mind.
A solitary tune by a fisherman, though, can be an invaluable treasure.
Dusk rain on the river, the moon peeking in and out of the clouds;
Elegant beyond words, he chants his songs night after night.
Mots clés transcendence tao old-songs
Like vanishing dew,
a passing apparition
or the sudden flash
of lightning -- already gone --
thus should one regard one's self.
Mots clés zen self wind transience old-songs ozymandias
Watching my four year old daughter dance
I cannot break free of her.
clouds very high look
not one word helped them get up there
it isn't that we're alone or not alone
whose voice do you want mine? yours?
that stone Buddha deserves all the
birdshit it gets
I wave my skinny arms like a tall
flower in the wind
I'd love to give you something
but what would help?
don't wait for the man standing in the
snow
to cut off his arm help him now
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