Today, I am safely alive – seeing
that all things are not lasting.

A supermarket full of people,
spring flowers and winter snows.

In this nothingness, all is revealed.
This is the habit of my mind.

Ten thousand drops of rain,
and blowing widely.
Anything and everything,
coming between enlightenment.
I will try to find a way,
or from moment-to-moment
– walk the universe alone.

At night I see in the streets,
and in the face of a                      familiar sun fading – a truth                   revealing itself.
A shared humanity,
and people speaking their own silence.

I drink my tea,
and read my books –
no rushing toward a future.
Just this moment in life,
I am myself –
and my words prove it.

A night breeze,                              murmurs at the window.
Outside people imagine                        their minds are hard,
and later see that it is dark.
Knowing the fate of a poet,                      in the blink of an eye,
I understand the way.
A worn note book under my arm,
and nothing to hang on to.

In front of me is the land                          of stillness and quiet,
the same world as before.
Nothing has changed,
but myself and my shadow.

I sit, still.
Letting go,                                                side by side with nothing,
Watching the fire I lit,                          burn brightly.
A boundless perfect moment.

The day so cold
and the flame hardly moves.
Only rarely, comes
a voice of reason…
Emptiness
just
fills.
Another day,
held in being.

As the sun sets,                                        the sky closes on trees.
A poet’s grief arises                                and engulfs everything.
My head pillowed,                                      there is nothing in the cry,                      nothing in the self.                                    But beyond the ocean’s dried,
a lotus land of purity –                            in breath after breath.                            It’s everywhere …

The mind moves and lands
wherever it pleases,
a flesh of emptiness, it seems.
With my eyes open,
I look at the heart of life.
The present, the here, the now,
and everything is stripped –
complete and altogether done.
I will never grow so old again.

How I wish to die
in the autumn.
And see the
last leaf fall.
I hear your voice,
one more time
provoking my longing.
A calming of the heart,
beyond thinking –
beyond speaking.
An endless moment
to see me through.