(Written in my hotel in Osaka)

​What are we to make
of these days?
Eastward messages.
Westward messages.
They all come and go.
Perhaps I should
follow the moon and
drifting summer clouds.
Or maybe the tappings
of a hand drum in
Hozen-ji Temple?
I think I will follow my way.
Bearing the weight of being.
With words, friendship and
waking easily for those
dark dreams from past days.