Every distraction
But an effect of some prior causation;
The rattle of a car engine shatters lowly merit
Sitting here, crosslegged, in the cusp of suburbia
Endless is my Karmic retribution;
Trying to accumulate it all in this life;
Having learned under the Dharma of Amitabha
This body will disperse through the scenery of the pureland
And this mind will have found its source
Cold weather brings a need
For socks and thick shoes with rubber soles,
Stubborn as I am though,
On each ankle, blisters form like little jewels;
A pair of ruined cotton slippers lay on the deck;
A trail of sopping mud,
My footsteps stain the grey of the sidewalk
My mind stains every visable tree branch
Today I sang out to the birds in their song
Tomorrow I will sing out to them in my own
Having walked the forest trail many times
At one moment it is green, the next yellow
Unconditionally bound to winter; it freezes over white
And melts blue into the orange of wildflowers
Chosen to rest eternal in the black soil
Cut by the edge of a silver knife
To be placed into a brass vase
Returning to the white as dust;
An unflinching light lets dance a billion particles
All phenomena empties with the seasons
Kannons mercy 