turning season

turning season

changing one thing into another
closing a season of fervor and life swirling
the green is tired

a flash of light
amber hues peek through

a flash of light
quilt of yellow draping root

a drop of water
the smell of earthen hues

dust bellows up in the wind
and into this news wraps feelings
these questions of what changes will come

travelers take leave
thoughts bellowing up in the wind
and in reviews wrap feelings
questions of what was,
what will, or what should be
past, present, future

smoke dancing in a hand
red dust in scratchy, squinting eyes
if there was no form to grasp
was what lost ever had?

bitter valley of winter
frost covered touches where once warmth sprang
slowed to a halt, a wanderer sat quietly in a cave
knowing the bottom is a fine place to start
even the coldest hell is home to Buddhas

and no realm is ever home for long

a still puddle lies in reflection
what change has already wrought
into this life or the next
chapters turn and turn
existence churn; a burning dance
yet no motion is discerned in reflecting water

shh... still is reflection
mind, body, heart
truth reveals itself



mother ocean meets these crumbling shores
she wears land down one pebble each day
the fire of our rocky passion builds anew
bursting forth, hurling tear shaped fire
straight from the belly of desire
destroying all as payment due for progress

a mountain climbs into the wind
running slowly upward for uncountable kalpas
guaranteed to crumble to nothing
when context is struck by cosmic bodies
or worn down by change
ebb and flow of seasons
tension and release of water
every weakness is exposed
coming and going faster than stones can keep up

in nature we see things opposing one another
the first imaginings seem too easy
gain and loss or right and wrong
ever a construct but never an outcome
is it all just a game playing out only in mind
but real or imagined; what is at risk?
surely for and against is a great mistake

object is object because of the subject
subject is subject because of the object
know that the two are originally one emptiness
but hold nothing
for holding is one against one
and existence containing all phenomena
how could difference be named?

all that is here will always be here
as ever it has been for not one
not ten-thousand, not millions, 
but for all kalpas
seen by every eye and all five ways of seeing
ever changing faces, changing names
still the same, still empty of self-existence
there can be no comparing in the realm where delusion is cut off

but grown in number and freedom
fed until knees buckle under fattened bellies and purses
in kingdoms centered by glass castles
people stand divided

one color against another
words are mere ideas
humility begs atonement
and observant silence
no views in hand
only hand in hand

and forgiveness

one viewing the other through a lens of ignorance
the other's contrarian behavior,
like a child, some say
what games play out,
what beings will suffer more
than ones whose minds stop and hold
where physical eyes discern
shadow or light
with or without
fine or coarse
black or white

yet all is.
no thought breathed into the air
can change what simply is
so why make enemy of what appears different,
when without other there is no you
anger does not nurture friendship
and the closer one holds other

on a departure

Silhouette of Adventure.jpg

what is there to see
in a moment when emptiness
does as it does with sentimental hearts?
a flower bloomed once,
its sweet fragrance yet perfumes the whole wind
nowhere it does not reach

plucked and wilted,
blown down and trampled, 
is it too late?
her sweetness is already everywhere
so in case you did not believe,
you are welcome to taste it in these tears.

neither for sadness nor joy
but for wealth in touch and experience
this time these feet walk on contented, remembering soles

in this cup

heat water
consider time
consider leaf

in a calm quiet setting
a space in home
begins in mind

consider time
what else is there to do
pour hot water

                              become one with now
                              as wakefulness blooms
                               in this yellow liquor

    eyelids of a red-headed barbarian sweetly release
    filling this cup with the spell of the golden sorcerer
         there is no sweeter milk than oneness
                                            with the great way

                                      wake up!
                                wake up!
                           wake up!
                     days and nights go
                quickly passing by

perfection of wisdom

you, i, dust; all is one. under sun under moon; even stones wither to nothing.