A wanderer.
Let that be my spirit name.
Outside, we are all waiting
for the first leaf to fall.
Each one, a new path.
Which one will be mine?

Too black, this path.
Some would say.
Each step gives a
sternness to the earth.
No swaying, or moving.
A presence not felt.
But this is the path I chose.
Everything is within reach.
Cold winds, a stone garden.
And a caressing touch
with a new direction.
So fragrant, I am
bound to follow.
​

What shall
I say about this world?
Today the sun is shining.
Soon the flowers
will close once again.
Each day I write a poem.
Not a day passes
without challenging
the demon of desire.
And when my time here
comes to an end.
There will be no ruins.
Just another view left behind.

Forgetting myself,
for a moment.
All things go by,
like the flow of water.
My mind as light
as the summer breeze.
Nothing left to do
but compose poems.
And move on.

The daylight dies.
A dew-drop vanishes
from a leaf.
The wind may rise.
And I may pass away.
Who knows what will be
When tomorrow dawns?
So, I shall live in the moment.
And seek its beauty.

Travelling alone, yes.
Winding roads ahead, yes.
A journey full of
twists and turns, always.
Yet, each step an endless
depths of unknown truths.
A butterfly’s flight,
brief and fragile.
But oh, such beauty.
And so worth the effort.

On a summers day.
To make fine music.
I simply walk
and write poems.
Rather than throw myself
at a thousand-handed Kannon.
Hoping for the best.

(Kannon, the bodhisattva of compassion. Kannon grants deliverance from suffering to anyone who calls upon him).

Summer heat.
Rivers almost dry.
Ice cream melting.
Flowers fading.
Temples full of sutras.
A baby’s laughter.
Coffee shops
opening and closing.
A poet wandering alone.
Everything just as it is.
A thousand parts
of your mind.
Can you see?

The shadows that
trees make in summer.
A morning dewdrop
and an evening lightning flash.
The magpies that congregate
outside my window each day.
A quick cold shower,
to address the heat and humidity.
Letting go of self,
and awakened to a thousand
parts of my mind.
Like this, I can leave
birth-and death behind.

Summer heat.
Like change,
it is inevitable.
Is this then
where I live out
the rest of my days.
Trying to stay cool,
by watching the
popular shadows
dance outside
the windows.
I think not.
Outside my window.
The sky and earth
exchange life as it is.
Not old dreams
of shadow watching.
This is the place
where I will live out
the rest of my days.