Shadows of the pines
Placid ghosts on a white wall-
The teaching is of loving kindness to all.
Bare branches of the weeping cherry
Silver-grey strands as fine as hair,
A waterfall frozen in time perhaps
At last, something to understand.
Beauty born of quality
And the setting of clear intention,
The bowl is the space
Emptiness defining form.
And the maples ablaze,
Good enough to eat!
Silence that defines
Emptiness bringing form alive-
No thing to be seen
No thing to be grasped
No thing to be understood-
All aflow in constant unfolding
Even the dust settles.
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