mujo

it was april remember standing side by side on the temple terrace the cherry-tree abloom an easterly breeze unpetalling white flowers as we looked beyond the pond at misty southern ranges -what is it that never changes impermanence everywhere - -that which always changes-

simply seeing seamless mind and mind no mind just hearing sound of one hand echoing in the valley

so the scenery was this. we had just finished a week-long sesshin. an exchange with my teacher, master ryotan tokuda, inspired me to write these lines. that was back in 2005. it could have been later. it could have been earlier. it could also have never happened. but it did. i beleive it did otherwise i would not have written this poem. or maybe it did not and i am only imagining things. real or imagined, all that is: diplay of impermanence. all that is: impermanance displayed. i woke up from a dream this morining. i heard a voice imploring me: hold on to it, hold on to it. i cannot. our reflexion on the pond is long gone but the petals of april keep falling.