A cannon blast through the heart of all that is dead and decaying.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Little Poem Written After Zazen

In darkness all penetrating
we stumble about
groping for something
to hold--
But rivers keeps flowing
never ceasing
metallic colors dance
over metamorphic faces

Remember the candle
held within--
a little brightness
to light
crossing black vast sea
(Unborn hidden
in dream-depths paper-thin--
reach through!)

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