The looming walk home.
Each step a slanting shadow.
Simple looks plain,
to a city – state mystic.
No longer illuminated by zazen.

My normal life, a dream now.
A draped body, left abandoned
in the eggshell.
To feel a slow coiling,
in dark silence.

But, a street-corner preacher –
points the way.
Drifting cherry petals,
and moonlight dimmed.
Far off rain, on the
sound of waves.