Jun 29, 2021

2 four-line poems.

The dharma is my rock
And this present moment is my flower.
I love to rise early and sit in silence,
Long before the morning sun.

Some of these words are written with smoke, 
Others with whiskers. Nothing here is written 
As a place for me to hide. Or you. Tell me, friend, 
With what will you write your own words?

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